Of Ice And Starlight
by TimeTraveler2233.00
Summary: In a time before the dragon had claimed Erebor and Greenwood was still vibrant, an old forgotten elf may change the fate of a king or two. This is is me. Playing with an idea and an AU involing and OC. No violence toward the author or fellow readers please. I may change the rating later though. Changed rating to "T" just in case for the upcomming chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_The season was winter for there was a brisk chill in the air. The scent of sea spray, eucalyptus, and newly wet soil filled the air as the sun slowly crept from beneath the horizon. Atop a cliff overlooking a glassy sea sat a shining silver building. It's design was elegant and intricate with patterns and carvings depicting the past, present, and, it was rumored, future. The building was a single round structure that reached far into the clouds with it's lone spire. At it's base sat a large courtyard that shone like the moon and was adorned with the finest of marble. Out from the building strode two figures. In front walked a young male with starlight hair garbed in a silver tunic and black pants. And behind him came a raven haired young male garbed with a black tunic accented in silver and black pants accented with ice blue. The courtyard had a few people moving about with their daily business. Suddenly with a smile the blonde turned and playfully shoved the raven haired male's shoulder before turning and racing away all the while laughing. The other followed letting out a small laugh as well._

"_Only an elf could hope to catch me!" the blonde called as the other's fingers grazed his tunic. _

"_Unlucky for you I am one!" He laughed nearly catching hold of the blonde's shoulder. It was then that the starlight haired male sped up. The dark haired male was both shocked and amused that the other had not been going as fast as he could. He ran harder to catch him but he was always just out of arm's reach. They turned and twisted about the courtyard darting between people and hopping over a few boxes and through a fountain. Just when the raven haired male thought he would catch him the blonde threw himself over a large wall decorated with intricate carvings. The raven haired male knew immediately that this dropped down to the sea below. He slowed and turned himself on top of the wall to take a few steps away. It only took a second to gauge how far the drop was and as he turned back to face the wall the dark haired male ran forward with a shout. As he flew over the edge of the wall he could see the blonde swimming towards the opposite shore. The raven haired male's momentum from the fall was more than enough to propel him to the bottom of the water where he turned and pushed off it in the direction the other male was swimming. When he surfaced he was mere feet away from the other and with a few strokes of his legs the dark haired male overtook the starlight haired male._

"_Caught you!" He announced as he grabbed onto the blonde and his head came to rest upon the other male's chest. _

"_Yes you did." the starlight haired male cooed as he laughed softly and embraced the other as they both made their way to the opposite shore._

It was the sound of laughter that awoke him. Blue eyes slowly cracked open to greet the noon-day sun peering through the window of the wooden house in which he had taken refuge for the night. Carefully he sat up and swung a pair of moonlight skinned legs over the edge of the small human bed. His raven hair swayed in the light breeze he made as he moved silently across the, normally, creaky wooden floor. A small groan escaped his lips as he looked at his reflection in the conveniently placed mirror on the wall. In his sleep his hair had become a mess. The braids in his hair had been torn asunder and there were large angry red gashes adorning his left temple. Slender fingers reached into his pant pockets to retrieve a few bits of the herb called Kingsfoil. A small hiss slipped from him as he pressed it to the wounds and with a few words the gashes disappeared into nothing no longer marring his otherwise flawless, pale skin.

"Good morning Himelon," he sighed to himself as he combed and untangled his black hair, "Would have thought you'd look better after a nice dream like that." Talking to himself. It was a bad habit of Himelon's ever since he was very young. He fiddled with his hair for a good minute before deciding that he'd wear it down and free today.

"Clothes…." Himelon trailed off as he scanned the room for his discarded clothes. Spotting the black and blue tunic and black and silver pants he moved over to the table by the window where he'd left them and quickly dressed. Curiosity compelled Himelon as he pushed the window open to look out upon the bustling city of men called Dale. It was mid-spring and the scent of flowers assaulted his nose as the laughter of children grew ever louder through the open window. As he watched the venders go about their trades Himelon situated a mithril circlet with a blue pearl as the centerpiece on his head and subconsciously rubbed the tips of his pointed ears.

Yes indeed. He was an elf. But not an elf like the ones known by most of Middle Earth. He was much older than those of Imladris, Lothlorien, and Greenwood the Great. He was the first to arrive in Middle Earth, the first to stray away from his kin as they traveled through the land, and determined to be the last to leave the world he now dwelt. Instead of living among one of the elven cities he had taken to traveling about the world always. From the highest peaks of the Misty Mountains to the deepest depths of the dwarf mines he had been.

He stood there for a time rubbing his ear and thinking. It had indeed been a long time since he had dreamt of such pleasant things as Valinor and even longer since he had dreamt of the starlight haired elf male. He never could quite place why he dreamt of the blonde. He knew these dreams were memories of his life before he had awoken in Middle Earth, but they always felt so distant and unfamiliar. Sighing Himelon brought his hand down from his head, gathered his light pack, and moved toward the door ultimately startling a young maid who was checking on guests of the inn.

"Good morning! Err, afternoon!" she chirped after getting over the shock of nearly being hit in the face by a door. Her shoulder-length, nut-brown, curly hair bounced as she moved out of the way with a smile.

"Slept well I see," she giggled, "Most guests don't sleep for so long. Then again most guests are men in a hurry or dwarves who need to get something done." Himelon had been moving down the stairs to the main room of the inn with her in tow. He had wrongfully assumed she would leave if he didn't respond.

"Hm.." he nodded glancing back at her, "Dwarves must frequent here because it is so close to their mountain." The statement was obvious. Most everyone knew that, but in truth Himelon had never been too good with conversation. Especially with races other than his own. The brunette girl nodded and skipped in front of him before an all too excited question leapt from her lips.

"So," she began with a rather silly grin, "are you like a thousand years old or something? I heard elves live to be that old." Himelon had abruptly stopped when he had found himself looking down at an all too excited female.

"Yes we do," the raven haired elf smiled softly at her child-like enthusiasm, "I however am older than that even." The girl's eyes widened as she made a variety of gasps and squeaks before stepping aside and bowing quickly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "Mum says it's rude to ask about people's age." Himelon chucked softly before sighing.

"It's alright," he replied, "I don't really care about such odd social protocol." With that he nodded and was off into the mess of bustling streets. For the majority of his journey south he had been torn. Should he proceed to Erebor from Dale or should he journey to Greenwood?

"I don't particularly feel like dealing with dwarves," Himelon sighed as he gazed south at the woods creeping along the lake in the distance, "and nothing says I _have _to even go see my woodland kin. I could just pass through hopefully unnoticed." With a nod and his mind made up the raven haired elf turned his stride south towards Greenwood The Great.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Wake up!" the words seemed to echo around in the darkness for everywhere, "Do I have to drag you out myself?" the question was accented with a sharp shoving sensation. As the scene unfolded from the blackness the first sight was milky white of a soft blanket. From beneath the silken fabric a head of starlight hair peeked. It was followed by an, all too sleep-dazed, porcelain face accented with ice blue eyes. With a small groan the starlight haired male began to scan the white room for his attacker only to find he was face down on the strong wooden floor! Stunned he shot to his feet and whirled to search the immediate area. _

_"Oh good! You're awake." The same voice from before called from the corner opposite the starlight haired male's current position. He spun quickly to catch a glimpse of the individual speaking. All the came into view was the view of raven hair and silver clothes. Yet he knew the other. The image was unclear and yet so familiar. The raven haired male moved slowly to lay a hand on his shoulder. _

_"Well get dressed," he spoke with a chuckle, "Or did you forget that I'm going to show you the harbor today?" The starlight haired male wanted to speak. But he never could manage to hear his own words. His mouth moved as he dressed in a sliver tunic and black pants per usual. The cool marble the was intermingled with the wood of his home comforted his feet as he returned to face the blurred visage of the raven haired male. Silently they walked side by side down through the extravagantly carved building and into the open grassy area that would, eventually, transition into the sea sand. _

_"Can't catch me!" the raven haired male laughed as he shoved the starlight haired male in the side before tearing off toward the sea. He gave chase coming ever so close to grabbing the individual in front of him, yet all his fingers found was the gentle caress of black hair. For hours they ran through the grass darting in and out of sparse groups of trees or particularly tall grass. Always the raven haired male was just a finger's breath away. Teasing and never reaching. It was wonderful though. The starlight haired male felt the deep hearted laughs tearing from his throat through his whole being and got the sense he had never been happier. As grass gave way to sand the blonde lunged forward through the air in a leap. _

_"Mine!" he shouted as his body made contact with silver cloth and ebony locks. They fell with a squeal tangling fabric and limbs as they rolled down the dunes to the edge of the sweet blue water. As the cool waves brushed against them the blonde sighed softly pulling the other male into a tight embrace. _

_"Mine." he uttered again much more softly this time. A heartfelt laugh from the raven haired male in his arms sent shivers up and down his spine. For a time they just laid there where sand met the sea content to never move again it seemed. By the time the starlight haired male sat up to move the sun was low in the sky. As he turned his eyes back ahead of him the blonde found himself standing near a harbor with thousands of silver ships waiting to sail free. The frame was pure white birch wood adorned with gems of moonlight and starlight while the sails were an elegant grey fabric the glistened against the reflection of the water. As he looked at them the starlight haired male felt a pang of sorrow and fear deep in his core. _

_"I sail East at dawn," the softly spoken statement was like thunder in the blonde's ears, "Our paths will likely not cross again." The starlight haired male wanted to grab hold of the other, command him to stay, or even go with him. The raven haired male's words were like acid but as his hand reached for the other blackness enveloped him once more._

Ice blue eyes shot open to reveal an intricately carved wooden ceiling. He laid in a large soft bed with red silk sheets and over-fluffed pillows. The air smelled of pine and gardenia flowers. His eyes roamed the large room that was all too familiar. Stone and wood wove together to make a solid yet elegant structure with two large doors carved in images depicting the history of the woodland realm as the only way in an out. He tried to quell his panic by closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"Only a dream." he muttered to himself as he started to drift back into the world of sleep. "My King?" the question came softly and almost fearfully from a small female voice in the doorway, "Are you awake?" His eyes snapped open again at the sound. The sudden movement all the golden haired she-elf needed as permission before stepping completely across the threshold of the door. She was small for an elf and carried fresh white towels in her left hand while skillfully balancing a meal in the other. She wore a simple pale blue dress which her golden hair framed perfectly. The King rose silently from the bed and glided over to a solid mahogany dresser and mirror in the left corner of the room near a large window. From atop the dresser he carefully picked up the woven wood crown adorned with red berries and green leaves that had not to long ago belonged to his father.

"It's yours now Thranduil," he thought bitterly to himself. It had been only 50 years ago that he had inherited the crown and now he was being plagued with dreams that quickly turned to nightmares. He knew them to be memories but they were ones that he did not wish to remember. Not yet. Not now. Pushing the window open he closed his eyes as a small breeze heavy with the scent of the various flowers and trees in Greenwood flowed in and tousled his long starlight locks. Taking in a deep breath the Elven King took notice that it was nearly midday.

"Why was I not woken sooner?" Thranduil questioned the golden haired she-elf who was now busy laying out a long silver tunic and black pants next to newly polished silver boots, "Did you realize it was midday?" The eleth squeaked and jumped softly in surprise at the sudden address and demand to explain herself.

"I thought my lord would like to rest a bit longer," she responded quietly, "You've been having nightmares recently…" she trailed of looking down at the floor. It was true he'd been sleeping uneasily and he had snapped at her a few times for bringing it up. With the loss of his father and the strange dreams Thranduil's patience and temper had been wearing thin.

"Thank you." the Elven King spoke softly with a sigh as he glided passed her toward the large bathing pool in one of the adjourning rooms, "I have been sleeping poorly as of late." As he sunk into the warm water Thranduil couldn't help but wonder why he kept dreaming of Valinor and the raven haired elf male. It was ordinarily in one's early youth that their memories of the time before would return to them. For him they never had and now they wouldn't leave him be. Nothing was ever clear and it was frustrating to say the least. With a sigh he tried to put his dreams as far away from his thoughts as possible. Certainly there was something more important in his kingdom to think on. With that Thranduil rose and headed off to get dressed and finish grooming himself for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Himelon had reached the edge of the magnificent green forest it was nearly nightfall. The moon was full and hung ever so softly in the darkening sky as the stars began to creep out to view the world. Their reflection in the large lake and wide river made the water appear to be glistening with light from within. The raven haired elf sighed as he sat down on a rock near the water and watched the daylight be consumed by the night. Night always had been his favorite time of day. It was cold and dark with only the soft light of the moon and stars keeping watch over the land. Their soft, protective, light was always his favorite. The harsh glaring light of the sun had always hurt his eyes and Himelon had only found it to be beautiful and more pleasant under a canopy of trees or when filtering down through something. Dimmed. That was the key to pleasant light. As the sun faded the lights of Laketown slowly appeared in the distance casting a golden glow over the ever present lake mist. Himelon sat on his rock until the final traces of the lights in the distance, from both Dale and Laketown, had gone black and all that remained were the moon and stars. Pulling his white bow and a silver arrow into his hands he rose and faced the, still as lively as in the daytime, forest. If he was to pass through unnoticed by his woodland kin Himelon would need to move through the night. Sleep could wait.

Greenwood was none the less beautiful at night than in the day. The way the moon shone through the leaves of the trees casting various green tinted shadows across everything and the gentle breeze that blew the aromas of flowers through the air made it a very relaxing location. The path that cut through the forest was paved with mindfully placed cobblestones and the trees of the forest had been wisely woven into the path's design to make the canyons and valleys of the forest effortless to navigate. Hanging at regular intervals were lanterns lit with glowing crystals of starlight to aid in visibility on moonless nights. Their glow and the soft filtered light from above made the whole of Greenwood glow in silver as if the forest itself was made of mithril and soft light. The light, life, and grace of the elves who called the forest home was evident. Their feral and dangerous nature was also evident. It was difficult to see and, to anyone but an elf, it would likely go unnoticed but just off the path there were remnants of a fight. An unidentifiable creature of the approximate size of either a small man or large dwarf laid just beneath a fallen log riddled with white feathered arrows.

"What sort of fool fights when cornered by ones of greater skill?" Himelon whispered softly to himself as he passed the unfortunate creature with down turned eyes saying a silent prayer for the fallen soul, "Still, they didn't have to kill it…" Violence and a lack of the deep running wisdom of their kin. This was the very reason Himelon was wary to visit with Silvan elves. They do not take well to others in their forest, kin or no, unless they had explicitly been invited. Too many times had the raven haired elf faced down a pack of brunettes and red-heads for simply walking along the path through the forest. Too often had such encounters ended in arguments with King Oropher and his predecessors. Himelon was determined to just get through the forest without incident this time. No Silvan elves, no violence, and no having to explain himself before the king. At least that had been his aim before he had wandered off the path while brooding to himself about how he was going to walk through Greenwood without incident.

"And now I'm lost." Himelon growled to himself mentally berating his own actions, "Brilliant." He took a deep breath and turned in the direction he thought the path should be in. Greenwood was quite large though and, judging from the slight amount of orange peeking through the leaves of the canopy, he had been walking around in it for a lot longer than he had initially surmised. On the plus side at least he was feeling comfortable and safe enough to zone out. That didn't happen very often anymore. The raven haired male wandered around the forest for a good part of the morning ever vigilant for signs of life other than the forest creature and listening for water. Where there was water, there was a river, and where there was river there was a path to follow out of the forest. Although Himelon's footsteps fell silently upon the ground, or tree branches in some cases, he knew his woodland kin had ways of knowing when someone was in their forest. Wards to alert of intruders and pacts with the trees and animals themselves. Many, if not all of the guards were sensitive to disturbances in their early warning system and had undoubtedly noticed someone tromping around their wood without permission.


	4. Chapter 4

It was still early morning in Greenwood when news of an intruder spread through the guard. It had been King Thranduil's intention to go out riding on that particular morning so the news had been more unsettling to the Captain of the guard than it would have been otherwise. There were procedures for this kind of thing and the threat was ordinarily eliminated quietly with no real need to inform the King, but this was different. This wasn't a trespassing dwarf or lost human. If the reports of sparrows and rabbits were to be trusted, it was an elf seemingly of Sindarin origins. After much debate with himself, the red haired Captain turned his gait toward the stables with a group of six other guards in tow.

"My king," he spoke softly with his gaze downcast from the starlight haired male stroking a rather large elk, "there is an intruder. Perhaps your ride should be postponed until this is dealt with." His voice had been soft and swift. He had hoped that the proposition would not be objectionable.

"There are protocol for these situations are there not?" the King's voice came as cool and calm as the stream and as filled with agitation and annoyance as the roaring flame. Thranduil's gaze had not moved from his elk and he was in no real mood to instruct his Captain on what to do when the procedure was clear. Last night had been particularly difficult seeing as how he had been tormented by images of the raven haired male being mutilated in various horrible ways while he stood helpless. Thranduil needed this morning ride to clear his head and calm his nerves. He certainly didn't need to be thinking that his guards were becoming incompetent.

"Yes sir." the captain spoke barely above a whisper, "It's just that.."

"Then take care of it." the king's words had been sharp an punctuated as he climbed onto the elk's back in one fluid movement. The intent had been to end the conversation and from the look of the slightly startled captain it had worked. The red haired guard blink dumbly for a moment from the shock of being cut off so. Although known to be ill-tempered Thranduil had never cut him off like that. In moments he rebounded taking a few steps forward now making eye contact with the king.

"The intruder is an elf." the red haired guard spoke almost as sharply as his king had, "Shall we hunt him or apprehend him?" the question had been filled with the aggression coursing through the captain's veins. He had never really been good with being interrupted and had a temper and a half on him. More than once he had been punished for snapping at king Oropher which is why he'd tried to be particularly careful when it came to Thranduil. If the new king had the temper of the last, he'd certainly be punished for this display. The starlight haired king glared down at the captain which caused the red head to break eye contact.

"Forgive me," the captain mutter softly, "I do not like the idea of hunting our kin." He spoke more reservedly this time and forced his eyes to the ground so as not to make things worse for himself.

"I will deal with your outburst later," the Elvenking stated making certain his meaning was clear, "For now I will trust you to handle the situation properly." He had pointedly not answered his question. His Captain should be more than capable of making such a decision. Thranduil assumed the intruder was likely from Lothlorien or Imladris. If his assumption was right they would undoubtedly surrender immediately. It was not like his kin to be violent when coming to visit.

"Yes sir." the red head whispered and nodded as the large golden elk trotted by him. Once it was out of sight he raised his head and let out an annoyed sigh.

"He could've at least answered my question!" he muttered angrily to the air while gather up his six, "Alright. Split into groups of two, corner him and apprehend him. Do not attack unless attacked." the Captain glared down each of the others to make his point. A few of them were still youths and were a bit trigger-happy when it came to catching thins or people. With a resounding "Yes sir!" they were off into the depths of Greenwood. The intruder had been seem moving west toward the river so that is where they would wait for him.

Grumbling softly to himself Himelon trudged through the wood toward the growing sound of running water. His bow was drawn and an arrow was poised to be fired. Every little crunch or snap set his eyes search for the cause. Time after time it had been a bunny or bird and he was officially getting tired of being set on edge by meeting his kin in the forest. Weren't they all supposed to be friends? If this was Imladris he'd be welcomed with open arms and likely a meal and bed. Not fear of being shot by someone who could be his cousin and a place in the dungeons.

As the sound of water grew ever louder Himelon found himself feeling ever more on edge. As he glimpsed the brilliant blue water that was the main river cutting through Greenwood he found himself feeling less like an elf in a forest and more like a deer searching for the hunters it knew were waiting just beyond the clearing. More out of habit than anything else the raven haired male threw a large rock into the clearing to see if there would be movement. When nothing was visible he climbed up a large oak tree and slowly inched along a thick branch that hung over the river. Slowly and carefully he emerged from the foliage and out onto the branch. After a moment of sitting there scanning the tree-line he hopped down swinging slightly from his knees as he did so. The cool of the water felt amazing on his warm feet. Letting out a soft purr the raven haired elf straightened his back and began walking through the current near the bank where it was still shallow.

"Maybe they thought I wasn't worth it this time." Himelon chuckled to himself. He'd never gotten this far without encountering someone before. His hopes were shattered however by the slight sound of footsteps behind him. There was no need to turn and see who it was. Himelon knew the identity of his pursuers and he was not going to stick around to be tied and dragged in front of the king. He bolted into the forest. As braches whipped past him and his feet took him from the ground to the tree branches the sound of footsteps grew faster and a few shouts and orders were defiantly audible. The chase raced through the whole of Greenwood for upwards of an hour. Himelon had been the first to fire an arrow. When he'd gotten sight of a young brunette female he'd sent an arrow singing past her ear ever so slightly cutting her cheek. Had he been trying to hit her he would have. Yet the response was immediate. White feathered arrows came at him sticking in the branches, ground, and tree trunk where his feet and body had been mere moments before. The chase came to an abrupt end when Himelon felt himself make contact with something large and furry. He had spun around to fire another arrow and as he faced forward the raven haired male had found himself running smack dab into an oversized elk carrying someone garbed in silver starlight. With a gasp and a thud Himelon found himself laying on his back in the middle of the forest path. In moments he had every guard in the area pointing white feathered arrows in his face. The choice at hand, draw his sword and become a pincushion or surrender.

Thranduil had been startled when the raven haired male had collided with his mount. His shock had grown when he angrily turned his gaze to the elf now sprawled out on the path on to be struck with a deep pang in his gut. As Himelon raised his hand in surrender he froze. His eyes made contact with the ice blue ones of the starlight haired elf atop the large beast and his heart stopped. Himelon knew him. Or at least that was the first thought to ring forcefully in his brain. Even as the guards hauled him to his feet and bound his hands Himelon couldn't tear his eyes away from the male garbed in silver. His gut told him that he knew him, but he just couldn't place where from. It wasn't until he found himself being led through large wooden doors and down into the depths of the tree infused cave that was the palace of Greenwood that Himelon found himself trying to rationalize and suppress the powerful thought. They couldn't know each other. The only other elf Himelon had had extended contact with since waking in Middle Earth was Elrond. And the blonde he had seen atop the elk was certainly not the master of Imladris. As the gate of the cell Himelon had been, all too forcefully, shoved into closed he came out of his daze shaking his head and growling audibly. He did not know him and he could not believe he was going to be stuck down here for goodness knows how long.

"Stupid elk!" Himelon grumbled to himself, "Bad brain! Damn beautiful, distracting elf!" Wait did he just say beautiful? No. Not beautiful. Just distracting. Why would he think that of some youth he'd just seen for a split second? There it was again. That pang that said he knew the starlight haired male. With a growl and a strong punch to the cell wall causing a rather large chunk to break off and clatter to the floor, Himelon tried in vain to put the starlight haired, elk riding elf from his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note:** **Sorry for the late update. My writing muse had been sleeping. XD Anyway, thank you to everyone who has been following, favoriting, and giving reviews! And to you Dina (Guest) I'm glad you like the story thus far. I couldn't help myself with the elk bit. ^_^ Okay. Carry on.**_

Fourteen times the lanterns' glows had grown brighter in the darkness outside his cell. Fourteen times the sun had set then. Himelon pawed softly at the floor inside the carved stone room he had been placed. Normally the guards would have taken him up to see the king long before now. At least, that's how it had always gone. One or two days tops locked in a cell, then he'd be brought before the king who'd question his purposes, then there would be the scolding and eventually he'd be let leave. That's how it had always gone with Oropher and those before him. They didn't really want him there taking up space and resources than he wanted to be there. So when a few days had turned into a few weeks, the raven haired elf began to feel a bit unnerved. He'd heard stories of people, ordinarily dwarves if the tales were true, being left to die in the dungeons. In truth he knew better than to think his woodland kin to be so cruel, but Himelon wouldn't put torture for sport passed a few of the more violent guards. Himelon had not eaten or slept for the duration of his stay thus far. The guards had brought him a bit of bread and some water, but the raven haired elf was too paranoid that the food was drugged to eat it and the paranoia that an unscrupulous guard would try to harm him in his sleep kept him awake. Generally being left alone in a dark, cold, hole in the wall with little to no food would be called an attempt to weaken the enemy. By this time the raven haired male had huddled himself in the corner furthest from the bars. He just sat there staring ahead and pawing at some of the rock he'd knocked loose when he'd first been placed here. As he watched the ebb and glow of the silver starlight lanterns a shadow caught his eye. High above his housing, toward the top of the seemingly endless waterfall that marked the beginning of the stairs that descended to the depths of the dungeons there had been someone. It had only been for a second, but there had been a figure there. Rising to see who it might have been Himelon pressed his head as far into the bars as he could to get a better look. As his eyes carefully studied the top of the waterfall they were met with nothing but water and the soft glow of the lanterns.

"So now I'm going mad?" Himelon half questioned and half laughed to himself. No, there had been a fleeting shadow. A tall figure with long hair and the most fleeting glimpse of silver. He was torn from his puzzling by footsteps. Turning his gaze down the long winding pathways that led through the dungeons, either further down or further up, there were two guards coming his way. Neither looked pleased. Himelon recognized one of them. The red haired elf captain that had been chasing him through the forest was on the lead. He look more puzzled than angry white his white haired friend just seemed angry.

"Hello," Himelon offered with a soft smile, "What brings you fine gentlemen down so far beneath the halls of your brethren?" Pleasantries were truly wasted. Himelon had learned in his life that a smile and soft words could buy time at the very least and sway the hearts of one's enemy in the best case. The white haired male's face seemed to soften a tad while the red head remained the same.

"We are moving you." the words fell from the red haired male as if they were painful to utter. Himelon surmised that he'd likely been the one behind trying to keep him down here. The raven haired male nodded and stepped aside so that the gate could be opened. He expected to be bound again, but instead they just ushered him out of the cell and began the ascent toward the main halls of Greenwood. The simple stone paths and walls slowly became the same intricately woven wood-stone combination that the Silvan elves were known for crafting. Carvings and paintings adorned the walls and the elegantly entwined patterns created from woven stone and wood for the pillars holding up the structure was breathtaking. The ceilings grew ever higher until they no longer could be seen and the cave in which the palace was built felt more like the forest floor and a cave. The pathways arched a slithered through the place. The depths of the cavern as far away as the ceiling. Even where he'd been in the dungeons Himelon had not been able to see the bottom. As they wove their way through the structure there were a few servants that stared, most of them looking confused, but aside from that no one bothered them. Himelon was led by the guards ever higher into the building that seemed also to be made of a large tree sitting atop the cave. When the carvings grew in their ornate nature and the decorations became more lavish, Himelon began to wonder if perhaps the king had chosen to have him brought to his study. He'd never before been this far up in the palace. They stopped before a pair of rather large and beautifully carved doors. Himelon initially assumed this was a private room of the king's, but that assumption was shattered when the red haired captain spoke.

"These will be your rooms until further notice." the Captain had stated this ever so simply that Himelon was initially to surprised to answer. The doors were pushed open and Himelon found himself being rather forcefully pushed in. The interior was as intricate and beautiful as the rest of the palace. Rich grey stone dotted with flecks of silver and blue weaves elegantly with pale and fragrant pine. The ceiling is but a glowing green speck high above the room and on the north facing wall is a set of large frosted windows framed in carved red wood. The window overlooks and area of Greenwood that held a flowing steam, waterfall, lake, and a courtyard covered in pure white cobblestone. Along the east wall is a door that, judging from the sound, leads to a bathing room with an underground spring fed pond for a bathing pool. To the west wall is a pine dresser and crystal mirror while to the south sit's the bed. It is made of sturdy, dark, mahogany and is adorned with silver sheets and plush pillows. Scanning the room and finding it vacant Himelon made his way over to the window. He let the cooling air flood the room as he leaned out the window to watch the setting sun. Once the moon had taken the domain that was the sky the raven haired elf made his way over to the bed. He tested it with his hand first before sitting. It was a habit born of staying in human villages. The beds there never were sturdy but this one was as soft as a pile of feathers and was certain not to break. Stretching Himelon rid himself of his tunic and quickly set about wrapping the soft silver sheets around him and drawing a large body pillow into his embrace. The ultimate effect was creating a nest of sorts.

"Better a cage like this," Himelon sighed and yawned, "than the dungeons." With that he closed his eyes, snuggled up to the pillow, and fell nearly instantly into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Thranduil had found himself even more uneasy than when his ride had first begun. Things had been going well. The forest was a rich green with blooming gems of flowers all around. The songs of birds and the occasionally bold and curious creature had been calming his nerves. Everything had been going as it should until he'd heard shouts coming from the east of his wood. Stopping to try and see what the commotion was had been a mistake. No sooner had the king commanded his mount to stop had someone come bolting out from the trees running full sprint into his elk shortly after shooting an arrow at his pursuers. Shock quickly turned to anger which was abruptly punched out of him by the all consuming feeling that he knew this trespasser. The unidentified male had been dressed in black, silver, and blue and carried a white bow with silver arrows accompanied by an ancient blade of moonlight with mithril hilt. He wore no shoes and the raven hair simply had made his pale skin and pale blue eyes shine. Thranduil had found himself at a loss for words as the stranger blinked dumbly up at him from his position sprawled out on the path. The main comfort of the situation to the King was that every single guard in the immediate area had responded immediately and in less than a minute the trespassing elf had been hauled to his feet, bound, and led away undoubtedly to the dungeons. The starlight haired king watched the group leave until they had completely vanished into the forest. With a crease in his brow and a gnawing ache in his gut Thranduil had continued his ride through Greenwood hoping it would alleviate this strange sensation of familiarity. He was certain there was no way they could have met. The raven haired elf's hair was too dark for anyone he could have ever net in Imladris or Lothlorien and even the Silvan elves of the woodland realm never had truly black hair. If Thranduil had seen him before he would have remembered it. Not matter how far into the forest he went the feeling never did get any better.

The Elven King had tried to go about his day as usual and if anyone noticed something was off they said nothing. He tried to keep this up for a few days. Completing paperwork, attending meetings, keeping up to date with the opinions of his people and keeping up his image in the public eye were things that were far more important than focusing on an intruding elf who tried to kill his men. Yet every time the matter of what to do with the elf in the dungeons came up Thranduil found himself avoiding the question and obsessing over the incident in the forest. The more the king tried to avoid the matter of the raven haired elf the worse he felt and the more violent his dreams and nightmares became. What had started out as heart wrenching excerpts from the time before his birth in Middle Earth had slowly become depraved images of darkness, violence, and death. How such things could ever be associated with a single elf male he could not fathom. Thranduil had taken to assuming , along with his healer and friend in whom he'd confided his troubles, that it was all stress and grief induced. His friend had even gone so far as to give him sedatives and nightly doses of starlight to try to soothe the horrific images swirling in his head. Nothing seemed to help however. One night about five days after the raven haired male had been brought into the palace Thranduil made a silent trip to the dungeons. He was hoping beyond all hope that perhaps seeing the visage that plagued his mind might ease his nightmares. Thranduil had become very much aware that the blurred image of black hair and silver cloth that appeared in his dreams had to be this elf. No one else that he'd ever seen had black hair.

From high atop the dungeons he watched. Thranduil watched his prisoner night after night from his place by the waterfall. He watched as the black haired male struggled to test the walls and gates of his cage. Pulling and pushing fiercely at them ultimately knocking stone loose as if it were moss and bending the enchanted iron gates like they were saplings. Nothing ever did give enough to free him though and the gate would always return to its original shape. He watched as his captive's attempts became more frantic and almost panicked. As he reached out trying to grab any guard who came too close, rushing the door whenever someone had turned their back to him. On one occasion the raven haired male had caught hold of a guard and had sharply smashed him into the bars and stone outside the cell in an attempt to get the keys. Had said guard been carrying keys the raven haired captive would have succeeded. As the days turned into weeks Thranduil saw the other male's fight ebb away into what seemed to be fear and depression. As if he'd resigned himself to whatever may come next the raven haired male had slunk into the back of the cell, just out of the king's sight, and huddled there unmoving.

On the fourteenth day there had been a council meeting called. It was intended to be about what would or could be done about the dragons terrorizing some of the elven and human trading towns in the far north. The decision to aid their kin and fight had been quick and at a later date the discussion would likely turn toward when they would go and how many would go, but for now it was done. Thranduil had remained stationary on his antler throne long after the council had left. He'd been thinking about what to do with his prisoner. It had been two weeks now and something had to be done. Of course he'd have to be questioned at very least but if his initial response to his imprisonment had been anything to go by, Thranduil worried that the raven haired elf may become violent again. Sighing and rubbing his eyes the Elven King slowly let himself drift off into a shallow slumber where he sat.

"_I don't like cages," the all too familiar voice seemed to echo from all around him. There was no scene. Just blackness a voice and the ever blurry visage of the raven haired elf male._

"_They remind me too much of something…" the voice trialed off and almost sounded pained. As if someone was trying ever so hard to keep away from tears._

"_Of what?" Thranduil asked quietly surprised that he could hear his own voice for once. He swiveled his head trying to see something. Anything. Yet there was only blackness in all directions._

"_Of a darkness that once tried to spread here from far in the East," the voice spoke with a slight wavering and Thranduil knew immediately that the voice's owner was now crying, "Of black tendrils that tried to take root in the souls of my father and I. I never want to even think about it again!" The way the words echoed around him broke the star lighted haired king's heart. He wanted to reach for the owner of the voice. To hold him and tell him it was okay. That he was safe now. That he too knew the horrors of this shadow. But he could not. Like a tether pulling and tugging at his mind Thranduil found himself being pulled backward. Back to his body. His halls. His throne._

"My King!" the word had been practically shouted at him. Suppressing a slight flinch Thranduil found himself looking down at a very angry looking Captain of the guard. With the most casual stance and fiercest glare he could muster the Elven King stared down at the red haired elf male currently glaring him down.

"What is it?" Thranduil's tone was cool and almost bored while his eyes told another story. The Captain visibly flinched and took a step backward while directing his searing gaze at the stone floor.

"Forgive me," the red haired Captain began through gritted teeth trying his hardest to hold his tongue for the memory of his punishment for his prior outburst was still all too fresh, "I was inquiring of my lord as to what should be done about the prisoner. It has been fourteen days now." The red haired male pointedly avoided mentioning that the king had fallen asleep. He certainly did not need to make things any worse. He was still sore from last time he'd spoken too boldly. Thranduil audibly sighed sinking deeper into his throne. Closing his eyes and with creased brow the Elven King thought on his options and on the dream. It had been as though it had come in answer to his fears that the raven haired male may become violent if brought out from the dungeons. Saying a silent prayer to whoever may listen to him and hoping he wasn't making a grave mistake, Thranduil opened his eyes and rose from his seat.

"Place him in a guest room near my own chambers," the words seemed surreal as they left the King's lips. It almost seemed as if another being entirely was speaking for him. There was no logical reason to have a prisoner moved to a guest room. Ever. Yet that was exactly what he had just ordered. Moving softly and elegantly passed his captain the starlight haired king caught a glimpse of the shocked red haired elf. He didn't stop to look back or wait for a reply. Thranduil's footfall had been aimed solely to the dungeons. If something went wrong in the process of moving the raven haired male, he wanted to see it.

To the Elven King's interest and near surprise the raven haired prisoner had not fought. He'd attempted to exchange pleasantries with the Captain and his white haired underling who came to escort him and the walk through the woodland halls had been silent and quick. The raven haired male had taken extreme interest in studying the palace as they walked and didn't notice that they were being followed or watched. After the prisoner had been placed inside his new chambers Thranduil approached the two who'd escorted him there.

"Place two guards at the door," Thranduil instructed keeping the self doubt the was gnawing at his mind out of his face and voice, "He is not to leave this room unless I summon him." The Elven King had quickly silenced a protest or question from his Captain with a simple bit of intense eye contact. A sharp nod and a soft "Yes my lord." was the reply he got from both of them. It was late and the moon would soon be high in the sky. Thranduil decided that he would try to get some sleep and leave the questions for the morrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Glaring sunlight. This was what had awoken Himelon from his sleep in the nest of sheets and pillows he'd made. The sun was just at the proper angle to strike him right in the eyes. With a groan and a soft curse the raven haired male glanced over toward where the window had been. It was closed despite having been open when he'd gone to sleep. It took a moment for this to process and before the significance had truly dawned on Himelon he'd buried his face in the sheets once more. Inhaling deeply the raven haired male began to drift off to sleep again. It wasn't until the ever so soft footfall of someone passing near the bed had reached his ears that Himelon had put two and two together. The previously open window was now closed. Someone else was in the room. Himelon's pale blue eyes shot open and in a single movement he'd launched from the bed to the other side of the room. His eyes came to settle on a young male elfling who was barely managing to support himself on the bed frame. He blinked dumbly in shock at the raven haired male who was regarding him with as much confusion as the elfling felt from the sudden movement.

"Who are you?" Himelon questioned in as authoritarian a way as he could manage, "What were you doing?" The elfling steadied his stance and cleared his throat slightly before flashing an all too friendly smile for the situation.

"I was bringing you some clean clothes," the elfling spoke gently as he came closer revealing the bundle of silver in his arms, "Sir." The last word had been added as an afterthought. As if the elfling had caught himself speaking too casually.

"Himelon." the raven haired elf took the bundle from the elfling, "My name. And thank you." Himelon relaxed himself and offered a soft smile. The elfling smiled back and bowed softly before quickly darting out of the room. Himelon surmised that the elfling must have been some sort of servant and the "Sir." thing must be some sort of customary respect offered to all guest. He was guessing he was a guest now anyway. Prisoners didn't exactly get room service or a nice bed after all. Himelon laid out the silver fabric and began staring it down as if it would try and kill him.

"Silver," Himelon sighed, "it's been a while." Instead of dressing in complete silver as it was seemingly expected he do Himelon retrieved his black shirt from where it had been folded on the birch dresser. He slipped the silver tunic on over his black pants and loosely attached the black fabric over top of that. The silver was peeking out from his collar and the black acted more like an over-shirt now. The raven haired male regarded his reflection for a moment before weaving in a braid that tucked behind either one of his ears and then a third down the back of his head. Once he was satisfied with his hair he moved to the beautifully carved oak door. It was adorned with a scene of an elf maid picking flowers by a stream. The raven haired male pushed the door open with full intent on collecting his bow, arrows, and blade, from the armory where he knew they'd have been taken, and leaving promptly there after. Those plans had come to a screeching halt when one of the guards by the door silently grabbed his arm and shoved him back in the room. The other of the two had obviously been expecting a fight or argument seeing as how he'd turned and blocked the door entirely.

"You are to remain here until King Thranduil summons you." the guard blocking the door stated with just the ever so slight hint of annoyance in his tone. Although Himelon could not see his eyes he knew he was being glared at.

"What happened to King Oropher?" Himelon asked coolly taking a step forward so that the door could not be closed without crushing him, "Has he passed?" The raven haired male knew the answer deep down. He just hoped otherwise. The nod from the guard confirmed what he had not been hoping for. Despite being a tad ill-tempered Oropher had been generally fair and easier than his predecessor to reason with. Himelon knew nothing of this Thranduil and wasn't even sure if he was Oropher's descendent. As far as he knew Oropher hadn't had any children.

"Thranduil is his relative?" As soon as the question had left Himelon's lips the other guard tried to stifle a laugh. That guard was likely younger than the other whose glare only intensified.

"His son." The elder guard informed Himelon sharply before closing the door rather forcefully. To avoid being crushed Himelon had abruptly retreated back into the room. With a sigh he took a perch on the windowsill with his feet dangling in the breeze and awaited what would probably be a very uncomfortable meeting. The first meeting of a ruler rarely went well and if son was like father it would likely end in a misunderstanding.

Rising with the sun Thranduil wandered through his halls and out into the main courtyard of his palace. For a time he simply sat and watched the day dwelling forest creatures come to greet the morning. The sunrise stained the deep blue sky over Greenwood various shades of purple and orange while the scent was dark flowers such as jasmine and orchid gave way to lighter scents such as gardenia and roses. The brilliantly painted sky contrasted beautifully with the wide variety of green hues and tints of the vast forest that was his kingdom. When other elves started coming out of the woodwork, as it were, to go about their daily business Thranduil made his way back inside. He came passing by his "guest's" room just in time to see the door being slammed in his face. Had circumstances been different Thranduil likely would have reprimanded the guard for being rude to a guest but the raven haired stranger was technically not a guest. He was a prisoner with a lavish cell. The starlight haired elf king chuckled to himself at the idea before moving further into his halls. After the main duties of the day had been taken care of Thranduil took his usual perch for business on his throne.

"It is due time we deal with our raven haired trespasser." Thranduil stated suppressing the cringe that threatened to work across his face. It had only been a few minutes before the raven haired male was brought before him but it felt like an eternity. The starlight haired king had been dreading this encounter for quite some time now. He had no idea of how it would play out and had even less control over what his emotions may do. If it wasn't gnawing familiarity and guilt that made him feel violently ill, it was burning desire and rage that colored his thoughts, and regardless there was always the vice-like grip of terror whispering in the depths of his mind. Of course no one could ever know any of that. He was king and he was strong and unbreakable. Questioning this trespasser should be no different than any other.

When the guards who'd been sent to fetch the raven haired elf male appeared with their captive in tow all of the king's inner worries became just that. Inner. On the outside he was a calm and cool as the mountain stream and as immovable and unapproachable as the cliff-faces over which said stream would flow. With piercing icy blue eyes and impassive face he regarded the prisoner. He's braided some of his black hair and had modified the clothing he's had brought to him to fit his own tastes. Ever the fan of black fabric. The raven haired male stood out against the throne room as a yellow autumn leaf stood out against green grass. The raven haired male carried himself as if he was of high stature and yet his pale blue eyes spoke of confusion and fear. Despite the guards' attempts to get the raven haired elf to kneel he did not. Thranduil could see that there would likely be broken bones before he kneeled and with a fluid motion of his hand dismissed the guards. All was silent for a time and Thranduil watched as his guest walked over to the edge and seemed to be interested in staring down into the depths below.

"Who are you?" the King's voice was what broken the silence, "And why were you trespassing in my realm?" He rose silently and glided over to the other's location so he could see his face. The raven haired male barely suppressed the surprised flinch when the deafening silence had been broken and rather boldly made eye contact as the king grew ever nearer.

"Himelon." the raven haired male replied smoothly, "As for my purpose in Greenwood, I was simply passing through." Himelon's voice had been as cold and smooth as a sphere made of ice while his pale face was as constant as cryptic as the full moon on a cloudy October night.

"If this is true then why attack my people?" By now Thranduil was circling the other male much like a predator circles its prey. At least that's how it often came off. In all reality it was a nervous habit. Something he did while thinking much like the pacing that some other individuals had taken to. Of course if his nervous tick served to intimidate his enemies then there was no reason to reveal the true purpose of the movement. Neither with words or stance or attempt to control his compulsion.

"I have not had positive experiences with Silvan elves in the past," Himelon replied keeping his eyes ever on the starlight haired king, "I was merely trying to frighten them. If I'd wanted them gone you'd have a forest full of dead bodies." Himelon almost immediately realized how much like a threat that must have sounded and the anger that flashed in the eyes of the otherwise calm king only confirmed the thought. The anger however was suppressed in an instant as then next question rolled from Thranduil's tongue.

"You do realize I have been exceedingly kind toward you." the starlight haired king began as he started back up the steps to his throne, "Why should I not have you thrown back in the dungeons?" The question had come more from the elf King's curiosity than anything else but the glaringly obvious fear that flashed in Himelon's eyes tugged at that pit in Thranduil's stomach. That pit he wished he didn't have when it came to this strange elf male.

"What makes you think you could catch me," Himelon began with silent conviction as his gaze traveled to the abyss near where they were standing, "before I jump over the edge of this platform?" As his gaze returned to the Elven King's it was resolute. If Thranduil called the guards or tried to grab him, he'd jump.

"You would not do such a thing." Thranduil ventured as fear and anger at the soft threat crept into his expression. His assertion was nearly shattered when he saw that his statement was entirely wrong. He knew that look. It was the look of an elf that was all too ready to die to evade imprisonment.

"Shall we test that?" Himelon's fluid words stung. They stung Thranduil's heart and mind like a bee. He would not test it for he already knew how it would play out and despite having little to no knowledge of Himelon in this life the elf king felt all too deeply that he could not bear to loose him. It was an annoying sensation to say the least.

"Let me leave Greenwood," Himelon began suddenly momentarily startling Thranduil, "and I would be more than happy to weave you gems of starlight and moonlight in return." Bribery. It had always worked in the past when he was in a bind with his woodland kin. The kings of Greenwood had an affinity for starlight and the gems made from it. The skill was nearly unknown to the generation of Silvan elves currently living in the forest as well. More than once the simple mention of starlight gems had freed him. It was not to be this time however.

"I can make such gems," Thranduil stated coolly perfectly hiding his deep desire to take the offer, "your offer means nothing to me." He took his seat and stared intently at the other male. That pit that would not even let him entertain the idea of loosing the raven haired elf male was back in full force. He was curious about him. Most all elves detested the idea of wearing black. It was the color of shadow and death which were not things most elves enjoyed and those that did laid now dead on the battlefields of Mordor. Not only that but the claim to be able to make those gems. It was an ancient skill that practically no one knew and yet this random elf previously unknown to his had spoken with such confidence that he could not have been lying. Then there were the king's roiling emotions. They made him want to know everything about Himelon. Where he was from and where he was going. Why he was so eager to leave and why he always haunted his dreams and nightmares. Thranduil wanted to know who and what this raven haired male was in as much detail as possible.

"You will remain here," the King spoke after a bit of a pause during which Himelon had wandered ever closer to the platform's edge, "and in return you will be given the privilege to roam and explore under the vigilance of a guard of my choosing." Himelon glared and flinched visibly at the idea of being kept against his will even longer in Greenwood, but some roaming privilege was better than full on imprisonment.

"I thank you for you gracious hospitality," Himelon uttered with the widest smile and most overstated bow he'd ever composed, "great Elven King Thranduil." Himelon knew he was being theatrical. It was a political tactic. There were very few ways one could respectfully show their displeasure while not insulting their host. This. This skirted the boundary significantly but seeing as how a small glare an a dismissal were all he got, Himelon figured he'd take it. He was promptly escorted out by guard and left to his own devices and Thranduil was left to be annoyed with himself still trying to sort out how exactly he was going to go about learning anything about his new mysterious guest.


	8. Chapter 8

Exhausted. That was the predominant feeling in Thranduil's being as he sunk ever further into his throne. The encounter with the raven haired male had gone better than his worst fears but also went worse than he'd been hoping for. Fortunately the starlight haired king had kept most of his inner thoughts from showing but he knew he hadn't been perfect. He'd startled ever so slightly once and let fear and anger creep in on another moment. Ordinarily he would have no such problem. He would pass judgment calmly and resolutely, but here there was no judgment to pass. Only modification of Himelon's containment. He'd been a bit more confident and felt ever more empowered when the encounter had first begun. His prisoner was frightened, albeit proud, but he had been frightened. That was how it should be.

As King he held the power of life and death in his hand and only a fool should be unafraid when facing his judgment throne. And yet Thranduil hated that. Despite bolstering his ego he also found the fear in the other's eyes was like a knife to the heart. As the conversation had progressed Thranduil had felt himself loosing more and more control. At least that's how it felt to him. He was hoping beyond all hope that he had not seemed as weak as he'd felt. When Himelon had made a subtle threat to his people and had threatened to end his own life Thranduil had felt helpless. That both scared and angered the young elf king. He feared for his people and was enraged that anyone dare threaten them and he'd been afraid of loosing the one who had just threatened that which he held dear. Fortunately things seemed to have ended as they began. He was in charge of the situation and all the raven haired elf male could do was obey. So why was he so exhausted? Their encounter couldn't have lasted more that ten minutes if that even and he still felt worse than if he'd just returned from a battle.

Thranduil didn't know when he'd begun walking or how he'd managed to navigate out into the stables unaware but he had. In search of either answers or solace from his own mind he'd come here. Sighing Thranduil found his elk and wrapped his arms around the beast's neck. He'd caught the creature when he was sill only a prince-ling and it had ended up being one of his best friends throughout life so far. The elk hummed and nuzzled its master. The starlight haired male smiled softly cuddling it back before sinking to the ground to curl up next to the large creature's side. At this moment he didn't care if someone saw. He didn't care if this was something a ruler should never do or if the ground would make a mess of his silver robes. As he snuggled up to the elk and it curled protectively around him he was not King of Greenwood the Great. He was just Thranduil Oropherion. Just an elf and his pet bonding as he tried to calm the emotional storm brewing in his mind.

"Well that went well!" Himelon exclaimed somewhere between a laugh and an annoyed remark, "I suppose it could have gone worse…" The large doors had closed behind him with a thud and he found that there was a rather large guard tailing him. In truth he'd been a bit shocked when the king had rejected his offer of the gems and even more surprised when he hadn't been thrown in the depths of the palace to rot. As Thranduil had put it Himelon had attacked his people. There was no denying that the King was being exceedingly lenient. Going from prisoner to supervised guest was about the second best result he could think of.

He was supposed to stay in Greenwood so taking back his weapons and leaving would probably not be allowed but you never know until you try. And try he would. Taking a deep breath Himelon spun on his heel to face the guard and while said individual was trying to make out what would happen next Himelon's hand made contact with the other's helmet clad face. A slap. That's all it had been and that's all that was needed to confuse the guard long enough for the raven haired male to bolt. He'd faintly heard shouts and footsteps behind him but that mattered not. With all the skill of a native Himelon wove in and out of passages and dodged several servants as he made his way toward the cellars and, more importantly, the armory. With most of the guards racing about looking for him it had been easy to over-power the two who were there. A few well placed punches and some rope from a wine rack had served him well. Seeing as how these two seemed to have been into the wine recently things had gone especially smoothly. Himelon was barely able to contain the happy squeal that found its way through his lips as he spotted his bow, arrows, and blade completely unharmed.

"Now let's get out of here." the raven haired male whispered to his weapons as he swung them onto his person. It was then that the guards began to wake and struggle.

"Oh sshh!" Himelon bit out swatting at their frantically twisting heads, "You're fine! Just a bit tied up." He felt like he was reassuring children that the scrape on their leg was nothing. It was bit amusing to think of it that way and he let out a soft chuckle as he strode out into the main hall. With light feet Himelon had tried to avoid detection but unfortunately one or more of the guards were particularly vigilant and spotted him. It wasn't long before it was a full on chase through the palace and seeing as how the main entrance and exit was blocked Himelon found himself leaping out over a balcony into the forest.

**Author's Note:** _Thank you all for the reviews and everything. Since the question was posed to me in a PM (Silvara) I will tell you in escence what I told them. I plan on angling this in a slashy direction eventually. However I plan on building the slashy-ness on a foundation of freindship and there is quite a bit left to come in the story. Don't worry. There's not going to just be a random chapter where we go nuts with a homosexual love fest out of nowhere. As previously stated I intend on building the slash relationship of a freindship relationship. I will likely be changing the rating to "M" in time but I will also put an author's note at the begining of the chapters where the slash begins to mannifest. Once again thank you so much for all of the reviews, comments, views, messages, follows and favorites. You are all what encourage me to keep going with this story. Thank you one and all._


	9. Chapter 9

The sun was beginning to set when Thranduil noticed the commotion coming from in his palace. There were angry shout and guards running in and out of the courtyard frantically. They tried not to be noticed by their king as he slowly walked out of the stables with his mount in tow but their efforts were in vain. They were angry and startled and Thranduil could only think of one culprit. As if to confirm his suspicion Thranduil turned just in time to spot as black haired figure leaping from a window that was a good five stories above the ground into the trees. Spurred on by curiosity and annoyance with his seemingly incompetent guards the elf king swung up over his elk and set off to track the raven haired male.

"Is it really that hard to keep track of one elf!?" Thranduil shouted over his shoulder at the scrabbling guards as he rode passed them nearly knocking them off their feet with his wake. It was a while before he picked up the practically nonexistent trail and the sun was nearly set. Yet he knew somehow that Himelon would travel through the night. He knew that the other feared neither injury nor death and that there would be very little that could detour him from his aim. He didn't know how he knew this. He just knew. By now there were about five horse mounted guards who had caught up with him including his red haired Captain.

"My King," said Captain began as he rode up lightly to be beside him, "Why does it matter? Is it not better that he be gone than to trouble ever more over him?" The captain's words had been pointed yet respectful. It was a good skill to learn and the question was very valid. Why was he so intent on keeping one of his kin against their will? Why did it matter if the raven haired elf left Greenwood? How could the desperate actions of one elf get to him in such a way? In truth he didn't really know.

"We cannot let a prisoner simply do as they please," Thranduil stated trying more to convince himself of it than his captain, "Word will spread of the weak will of the woodland realm if he escapes. How am I supposed to control a whole kingdom if one elf is allowed to do as he pleases against my orders?" His icy eyes had met the emerald orbs of the red haired captain but they lacked their normal edge. The Captain saw this and raised his eyebrows in question. The points the King had just made were more than valid but the starlight haired male's eyes betrayed the uncertainty in his heart. The red head didn't know why but his king was afraid. He was afraid although he hid it from most others and the king's fear stemmed from this one individual. To the Captain the fact that his king felt fear was more than enough reason to hunt down the trespasser and drag him down to the dungeons for eternity.

"We can catch him my lord," the red haired male stated softly, "You should return to the palace and take your rest." Thranduil would have been lying if he said he wasn't tempted by the offer but he would not. Himelon needed to be caught and he was going to be there when the raven haired male ran out of road.

"No." that had been the only word to escape Thranduil's lips before he spurred his elk on. There was no time or room for argument and he had no desire to leave any. If for no other reason than to ease the ache in his chest and clarify that he alone was in control of every situation Thranduil would catch Himelon and bring him back. Not to the dungeons though. He did not think he could handle to have any more violent nightmares.

Himelon had been running as fast as his elf legs could carry him. Some may have called his retreat cowardly but it was not. There was nothing cowardly about freeing oneself from captivity. He rand until the sun was far beneath the horizon and only the moon and stars lit his path. He ran on and off the elven path in attempt to lose the individuals who were most certainly pursuing him. He ran until the forest gave way to large open rolling hills covered in grass. As he broke free of the seemingly endless Greenwood Himelon let out a sigh of relief and, after putting a good mile or two between himself and the wood, flopped down in the grass to rest until morning. At least that had been the plan until the faint sound of hoof beats in the distance roused him.

The raven haired elf rose sharply and fixed his eyes on the tree-line of the forest. Confusion and annoyance gave way to terror as he made out the shape of six riders coming straight for him. Cursing and running ever harder Himelon raced along through the hills. It became very obvious very quickly that it didn't matter how hard or fast or long he ran the people following him would not give up.

"Stubborn aren't you?" Himelon growled as he turned to face the group at his heels. They were still a bit away from him but they were gaining. It was now encroaching in on the sixteenth day since he'd eaten and he'd only slept once in a fifteen day period. Himelon was tired and knew deep down that he could not realistically outrun the horses and elk on foot. His hope was to make it to the house of a skin changer before they overtook him. Skin changers weren't exactly aligned with anyone and it would make for a relatively good neutral ground on which to rest. Unfortunately that was not to be.

Just as the silhouette of the house came into view the horses and elk caught him. Barring his path forward, backward, left, and right they encircled him. There was no where to go and little that could be done. Out for reflex and sheer panic Himelon had drawn his sword and now had all but one of his pursuers aiming their bows at him. He was terrified. Terrified that they would kill him on the spot or that they would drag him back to the dungeons. But more than that he was terrified he'd have to hurt or kill that starlight haired elf before him. The mere idea tore at his very soul and Himelon was barely able to conceal the tears threatening to spill over his eyes with a blank and cold expression. If he was to die he would not let a single tear fall.

As the group overtook their quarry Thranduil found himself both amazed at how far the raven haired elf had gotten and angry that he had even attempted such a thing. It was not as if he'd been locked up to rot. He'd been given more or less free roam to explore and this is how he repays the king's kindness. With violence and insolence. The fact that Himelon had had the nerve to draw his blade when he was clearly surrounded was even more annoying. Yet it was when he had seen a single drop of liquid collect at the other's pale blue eye that Thranduil's annoyance began to melt into an unnerving worry. Did Himelon truly think that he would be killed for running? Did he really have so little faith that the King could stay the hands of his own men? Or was it distrust of his own kin or madness that drove such thoughts? Thranduil had little time to think on the matter before one of the younger of the group nearly let an arrow fly.

"Stop." the order had come strongly and sharply from the starlight haired king. The youth on whom his piercing gaze was now fixed stuttered slightly before lowing him bow. When Thranduil dismounted his elk the others of the group lowered their bows as well. Thranduil felt as though he was approaching a wounded animal from the way the raven haired elf before him recoiled and glared at him. It was all to similar to catching a frightened dog. Gently and carefully he advanced toward the other.

"I have not come to harm you," Thranduil began fluidly speaking in as gentle a tone as he could bring forth, "Only to return you to Greenwood. And you will be returning." The last statement had been more forceful and had been intended to be a command. Thranduil wanted to put any ideas of bolting again as far from Himelon's thoughts as possible.

"Why?" The raven haired male's question had been more of a demand, "Why are you so set on keeping me? I am nothing but another face to you." Himelon was hardly holding himself back. His voice hitched and his face flushed in anger. He was being violently pulled from sorrow and anger and fear and suffocating hopelessness. It was irrational and made no sense. He'd been through thousands of battles and situations that could have claimed his life and never felt this way. He'd been capture and tortured by orcs more than once and had faced down the armies of Mordor with his kin. And yet nothing could compare to the things he felt now. It was as if every emotion assaulted him at once and his breath and vision were fading. The world spun and the King spoke something as he fell. It fell on deaf ears and as his mind followed the silver clad king's movement to crouch beside him the world went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** _In response to the question posed by Noface (Guest) in the area of their ages we get into a little bit of tricky ground. Physically speaking Himelon is older than Thranduil but appears younger. In the overall spectrum Thranduil would be around the same age since he would have been "born" around or maybe slightly before Himelon back in Valinor before elves came to Middle Earth. However Himelon has been physically in Middle Earth longer than Thranduil and is thereby physically older. Himelon awoke in Middle Earth along with a group of the first elves to arrive but had practically no memories of his life before so he never had any recollection of going through the infant to adulthood process. Also since he didn't really had extensive contact with other elves in Middle Earth for most of his time there he can come across socially awkward and potentially younger than he may be in particularly uncomfortable situations. Ex: Panicking after being captured by wood elves and ultimately escaping when he could have stayed and rested. Thranduil having full memory of going through the stages of infancy to adulthood and being surrounded by his kin leads him to be less inclined to act rashly and/or panic when placed in a particularly uncomfortable situations. I hope this helps to clear up the age situation a bit. Sorry if I just made things more confusing. OTL And my question to you or anyone who may know. OMC. Does it mean "Original Male Character" or something else? Sorry for not entirely understanding the acronym. Anyway. Carry on._

As the raven haired male fell into unconsciousness Thranduil gently reached out to shake him. He had encountered, once or twice, individuals who would feign unconsciousness only to attack ore escape later and based on Himelon's actions as of late the elven King wouldn't exactly put such a thing passed him. Himelon was however indeed unconscious. His skin was as cold as death and his breath and pulse were barely detectable. Had the situation been different Thranduil may have mistaken the other for a dead body. Yet he had found the pulse and breath that indicated life.

A swell of relief washed over the starlight haired king as he scooped up the limp elf and situated him on his elk. The ride back to Greenwood had been silent and slow. No one was in a particular rush seeing as how they'd pushed their mounts so hard to catch Himelon. As long as Thranduil did not show urgency his guards would not. As the group entered the trees the light of the moon was waning ever so slightly and Thranduil took the opportunity to look into the mind of his peculiar captive. All elves had abilities that the other races called magic. Some healed particularly well of were given the gift of foresight while others had elemental attributes or could manipulate the living creatures of Middle Earth. He had been gifted with a kind of telepathy. And so with a deep breath and a soft touch to Himelon's icy forehead the elven King gently let his mind slip into that of the raven haired male.

_Darkness. That was all at first. Then there were words. Words whispered in the forbidden tongue of Mordor. They spoke of decay and rot. They grew louder and louder and the darkness flowed and seeped into every inch of Thranduil's consciousness. It's hold tighten mercilessly until the elven king felt as though he would fade into it entirely. No matter how he twisted or reached for the path that had led him here it was nowhere to be found. The black speech laughed a murmured promises of the destruction of his kingdom. It seemed like an eternity he had been forced to choke and listen when it all began to fade. He felt more and more like himself until the dank seep of the black speech had been entirely exercised. When his vision returned to him there was before the hands of Thranduil a door illuminated by such a fragile blue light that he thought it may shatter at any moment against the abyss. The door was silver and encrusted in frost and surrounding it was a form of elvish long since forgotten to time. It was the language spoken only in Valinor that none were thought to even be able to recall in Middle Earth. Yet it's meaning imparted fully to Thranduil as his gaze traveled over the elegantly inscribed runes. It was an ancient ward against the dark mass through which he had just passed yet there seemed to be no way in. Few if any elves practiced shielding their minds any more. It was not necessary in recent years so it was only logical to assume that this blockade had been erected before the recent years had come to pass. _

_Thranduil ran his hands over the door pushing and pulling softly trying to find a way in where there was none. It quickly became evident that he would proceed no further without permission. Permission that he would likely never receive. Even so he had learned much. He had learned that something foul slept here and that it sought to consume the mind of the raven haired elf male. This worried him greatly. Perhaps it was this foul shade that had led to his violent nightmares. Perhaps his visions of Himelon being killed in various horrific ways and the world falling to ruin at the feet or pale skin and black hair were not simply dreams but his mind sensing that which slept in Himelon's mind. As Thranduil's ice blue eyes stared out into the abyss before him he felt gripped with fear and sorrow. Fear because he would have to try and traverse that abyss to return to his body and sorrow because he had no way of currently knowing if Himelon was willing ferrying the darkness into the world or if it was simply being contained here so it could not corrupt Himelon's heart. With a sigh and a soft prayer Thranduil took one step forward, then another and another until he was on the very edge of the blue light's reach. He glanced one more time back at the door and strode out into the darkness as he walked the light followed him on the way out and soon enough he saw the path through the darkness before him and did not hesitate to take the quickest rout out._


	11. Chapter 11

Soft. As Himelon's mind came back to him the first thing that he was aware of was something soft wrapped around him. There was the gentle caress of a warm, silky softness that enveloped him and moved gently with every breath he took and every twinge of his muscles. Then there came the scent of wild flowers and lavender salts. The aromas of olive oil and rosemary combined to further sedate him. He heard nothing despite having the sensation that there was much movement around him. Himelon let out a soft sigh as he rolled over and nestled himself further into the aromatic, soft fabric about him. Then there was speech. Someone was saying something though it sounded more like a muffled whisper to him than the demand he knew it to be from the vibrating air that brushed against his exposed ear. There was a pause and then a gentle but firm grasp on his shoulder. Slender fingers and soft hands rolled him back over onto his back and held him in place while their owner once again tried speaking to him.

"Ada…" the raven haired elf groaned softly swatting at the hands holding him still, "please….let me sleep…." Himelon's words were sleep slurred and his mind was foggy and seemed to tell him he was in the Undying Lands. That he was back in his bed and it was his father that was trying to rouse him from sleep. When the grip tightened and the senseless voice persisted Himelon let his pale blue eyes crack open. The soft blue and silver room made of gems he'd been expecting to see and the white haired elder male with lavender eyes he'd anticipated were not, however, the sights that met his gaze. He was back in Greenwood. He was laying in a woven pine bed in a room lit by the soft glow of starlight lanterns. There were elves of all different appearance bustling around the room gathering vials and herbs almost frantically. The owner of the gentle but firm hands that held him still was a male elf with starlight hair and ice blue wearing silver robes and an all too familiar wood, leaf, and berry crown. It took a moment for the raven haired elf's mind to catch up with his eyes and realize that the individual holding him still and speaking to him was Thranduil and he did not look pleased with his brow furrowed and his frozen stare fixed upon Himelon. As the grogginess faded, all too slowly, Himelon tried to sit. He didn't feel the fear he remembered before unconsciousness had taken him. It seemed that those feelings were so far away now. As if they were a whole lifetime passed. As he tried to sit Thranduil frowned and pushed him back down.

"Don't move," the first words that Himelon understood since waking had fallen on his ears as bits of snow on the warm summer land. Harsh, cold, and somehow comforting.

"You've been watching over me?" Himelon smiled softly as the question passed his lips. It seemed that way at the moment didn't it? As if the King had been watching over him while he slept. That truly was nonsense and he knew it though. The Great Elven King could not have time to simply watch someone sleep.

"I have been attempting," Thranduil began fluidly as he reached for a glowing vial of starlight that sat near the bed, "to heal you're infection." Thranduil's voice flowed over the barely conscious Himelon like a cool spring over stones. Soothing and unaffecting. The raven haired elf male's eyes clouded over as he tried to understand what Thranduil could be meaning. He was not ill and was fairly certain he had not been injured as he fled Greenwood.

"I have no infection," Himelon's tone was flat and his face scrunched together ever so slightly as he stared at the item in the hand outstretched to him. The vial of starlight that was being offered him was even more puzzling. That was only used in purifications or festivals. It was not something given out lightly. The raven haired elf stared at the glowing vial for a moment before his face relaxed and his gaze traveled around the room. It was deeper into the palace than the room he'd stayed in before yet not as far down as the dungeons. It was comfortably furnished and yet could not have been any guest room.

"You are in the healer's wing," Thranduil spoke with all the gently charisma of a soft spring breeze and yet contained within the statement was a slight wavering. Almost as if he was unsure of what to make of the other's traveling gaze.

"The infection," the king continued with a soft sigh as he uncorked the vial and lifted it to Himelon's lips, "is a seeping shadow in you mind that I fear spreads through you as we speak. Drink." A shadow? In an instant of clarity in his mind Himelon put all the pieces together. Thranduil must have tried to see into his mind and found _it. _He must have mistaken _it _for something else. The reason his mind was so slow and he felt so groggy and detached was from the starlight they must have been giving him while he slept. When the realization dawned on him the raven haired elf male sat up sharply regardless of whether he was instructed to do so or not. Thranduil had barely managed to get the vial out of theway.

"I'm not drinking anymore starlight," Himelon said with a sharp resolve that momentarily caused Thranduil to startle and his eyes to widen at the piercing and pained gaze fix upon him, "_It_ is not an infection._ It_ is a scar." The statement caused Thranduil's brow to furrow again. He rose in a swift movement and began walking around the room plucking herbs, wards, and ultimately a glass of wine from his surroundings before returning stand directly in front of the bed on which Himelon lay. He regarded the raven haired male with all the scrutiny he would give a dwarf or orc. His eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the dead of winter. Unbeknownst to those around him the elven King yet again found himself at war with his thoughts and emotions. He wanted to believe that was why the purification treatments hadn't been working but how could something that had seemed so alive be a scar? _It_ had spoken to him. Known his name and the things that he feared most. He had felt it seep into his consciousness and threaten to extinguish the very light of his soul. Something like that was not a scar. It was a living infection. He found himself torn between the ache clenching at his heart over Himelon yet again and the thrumming drive and desire to protect his people.

"_It_. ." narrowing his eyes Thranduil leaned forward so that his face was mere inches away from Himelon's. His statement had been punctuated and he had managed to convey all of his authority as King into it. He would not risk the lives of his people over some elf he knew in another life.

"_It _found _it's _way in there," Himelon refuted pouring every once of his own authority into his words as he could, "100 years before the battle on the slopes of Mount Doom. _It _can only be contained. _It _will never leave and has no power over me." It was true. Sauron had attempted to possess and use Himelon's body after he helped forge the rings of power for the Deceiver. Himelon was well aware it was the second time Sauron had tried such a thing, but it was so long ago in life long forgotten that he hadn't seen it until it was too late. The raven haired elf had managed to break Sauron's hold but had not escaped unscathed. A tiny bit of Sauron's malice and essence was left in his mind to haunt his nightmares. The mental wall he'd built in Valinor served to keep _it _from ever taking hold in his body or mind. Anything short of Sauron returning could ever give _it _enough strength to do anything other than torment him in his sleep. Himelon's pale blue eyes were fixed upon Thranduil's icy orbs. For a second, just a second, the intimidating aura emanating from the King wavered and Himelon knew his point had been made. Thranduil had been listening with the outer reaches of his mind for he had noticed that he could not even sense the darkness that way but could discern conscious thoughts. He'd inadvertently heard the other's thoughts and had glimpsed the memory of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond trying to heal Himelon, in much the same way Thranduil had been trying, shortly after the tragic war. He saw the two most powerful elven healers fail.

Sighing softly and closing his eyes Thranduil straightened and placed the cork back in the vial of starlight and returned the herbs and wards to where they belonged. Before he turned back to face the empty and yet pleading eyes of the raven haired male Thranduil took a long drink of the wine to settle his nerves. If such emotional war and strain continued to eat at his mind like this he'd certainly go mad. The sweet, heavy, and strong alcohol served as a focal point for his thoughts. It helped him put aside the excess of his thoughts so that he could focus on the task at hand. The internal debates would have to wait until later.

"Are you certain _it_ cannot seep out?" Thranduil's eyes were still closed and his back was turned. He wasn't ready quite yet to look at Himelon again. He was frustrated that he hadn't sensed the shadow earlier and relieved that there seemed to be evidence that _it_ was at very least well contained.

"I am certain." Himelon quirked his head softly to the side as he regarded Thranduil. The other elves in the room had long since left and Himelon was trying to figure out what could possibly be going through Thranduil's mind. Was he going to let him finally leave Greenwood? Were there dungeons in his foreseeable future? Was he to be a "guest" yet again? Himelon just didn't know. He didn't know what cues to be looking for or even if there were any cues. Nervousness and fear began gently clawing at his gut and he began to fidget with the sheets. He tried rationalizing everything to himself. Reassuring himself that the Elven King was not likely to resort to anything overtly violent seemed to help stave off the increasingly distasteful scenarios that threatened to play in his imagination.

"Then let us try this again," Thranduil finally spoke taking another deep drink of the wine was he turned and infinitely more gently gaze in Himelon's direction, "You are to stay in Greenwood. You will return to the room you were previously given. You will be heavily guarded and if you disobey me again or I find that you have lied to me about _it _your punishment will be severe. Am I clear?" The starlight haired king's gaze hardened as he inquired about the clarity of his words. Yet again he was mere inches away from the other male and this time, having a clearer mind, Himelon felt a flutter in his gut. He suddenly felt embarrassed and couldn't help the blush that tinted his cheeks.

"Y-yes my king," the raven haired male had stuttered as he looked away. Himelon found that his heart was going a mile a minute and that he suddenly felt humbled and inexplicably safe with Thranduil that close. He didn't feel caged or angry or intimidated anymore. He felt irrationally safe and at home.

"Good." Thranduil replied a little more gently as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side slightly. Himelon had suddenly gone from behaving proudly as if he were the king's equal to humble and flustered. It was rather amusing and Thranduil found the blush on the raven haired males face rather enjoyable to see. Why he couldn't quite place his finger on though. If Himelon behaved himself and obeyed him this time there would be the perfect opportunity to learn more about his raven haired guest. Adding a few more guards to escort Himelon around wouldn't hurt on enforcing his point however. Thinking on these things and the preparations that would be necessary to be made for the next council meeting Thranduil floated out the large doors to the healer's chambers and left Himelon to be tended to by the others. Ultimately someone would be sent to fetch Himelon and escort him back to the room in which he was to stay.

Himelon watched the silver clad elf King retreat from the chambers and it wasn't until he had left and the other healers started to flood back in that Himelon let out a sigh and flopped back into the bed. He was still here and Greenwood seemed to be the place he would have to stay for a while. Despite his irrational and panic driven behavior King Thranduil had found it in himself to graciously grant him the general privileges of a guest. The more Himelon thought on the possible reasons for Thranduil doing so the less he liked his conclusions. If it wasn't silly fantasies about being fancied by Thranduil it was terrifying ideas of being kept for sport to be hunted down and killed later. Truly the later was naught but his own paranoia due to the large numbers of people about Greenwood. Shaking his head Himelon put his odd ideas out of his mind and tried, unsuccessfully, to strike up conversation with a few of the healers. Ah well. Things could be infinitely worse couldn't they? Giving up on the conversation endeavor Himelon let himself slip into a light restful sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:**_**A bit more mention of future slash in here. We're not yet into the slashy bits yet but there is (repeated) mention of blushing. Just trying to be sensitive to those who may or may not find that appealing. Anyway. thanks for the encouragement and comments. And to Dinah I'm glad you like it so far. 3** _

It had been nearly a month since Himelon had been instructed to stay in Greenwood and the seasons were slowly changing. The soft scents of spring were becoming the more potent and intoxicating aromas of summer flowers. The gentle green of the forest was also finding itself bathed in more and more gold and orange light as the clouds from spring retreated from the sky. The temperature had gone up slightly an while most everyone enjoyed the sunlight and warmth Himelon would have been lying if he said he felt the same. It wasn't that he disliked summer, it was that he found it simply to hot and bright of a season. In the duration of his stay Himelon had found that the extra guards that Thranduil had appointed to keep an eye on him weren't that bad. He'd thought they'd be over restrictive but in reality they mostly let him go where he pleased. Certainly they didn't hesitate to tell him when he'd over stepped his privileges, but they weren't exactly rude about it. His perception of Greenwood had been changing as he learned his captors weren't, for the most part, any more excited about him being there than he was. Although he had been enjoying his stay more than anticipated.

Himelon's days in Greenwood had started out awkward and slightly forced. For at least a week he didn't dare venture outside of his given room. There were simply too many people and he was terrified. When King Thranduil had caught word that his "guest" was cooped up in his room, and hadn't set foot outside for nearly a month, he'd gone out of his way to remedy the situation. If a guest was unhappy, for whatever reason, someone outside of Greenwood, or inside of, would hear about it and his hospitality and authority might come into question. Such perceived weakness or rudeness could destroy a kingdom and humans had proven that time and time again. Thranduil rationalized to himself that he was going to see Himelon simply to prevent rumors but in truth a part of him had been feeling rather sad in the passed weeks without see the raven haired elf male. So with a strong and confident stride the King of the woodland realm set himself to travel through his palace to the room where Himelon was staying.

The room of wood had been as Himelon had been keeping it. Dark and cold. He was thankful that he'd been gifted with the reign over ice and shadow. Some of the elves back in Valinor, and even a few in the elf kingdoms of Middle Earth, had thought him cursed for a time. Thankfully the majority had the sense to see the gifts for what they were. Nothing but a variation of the elemental abilities some other elves possessed. And so Himelon was putting them to good use here in Greenwood The Great. If he was to stay in this endless forest he would at least be comfortable. He'd blotted out the daylight until there was no sun left shining in the room and then proceeded to ice over most of the place to keep it cool. 62 degrees and below was favorable. The ice itself gave off a soft blue glow from the "magic" that created it. The only light in the room was the gentle comforting glow.

Himelon had taken rest in the bundle of sheets and it actually had been about two days since he'd even moved from the bed. Overall a month had passed and in that time Himelon would wander around the room, speak to the trees and curious creature who came to visit, and occasionally spy on a certain Elven King while he slept. One day the rave haired elf thought, for a moment, that he might actually leave and explore the palace but the thought was quickly crushed by his own phobia of his more feral kin. That is until there came a soft yet strong knock at the door. Without a word the large oak threshold was pushed slowly open bathing the dark and blue room in golden light. In response Himelon curled himself further under the covers to shield his eyes a let out a soft hiss. Yes he was acting like an elfling. No he didn't particularly care at the given moment. All was silent for a moment until there was a soft sag on the bed and a sharp tug of the sheets that ultimately uncovered the raven haired elf hiding there.

"You could at least pretend to take interest in my kingdom." Thranduil had spoken fluidly yet gently while holding back a soft sigh. In truth the Elven King didn't know why the idea of Himelon being cooped up in the room bothered him enough to see about solving it himself. It just did.

"Are you displeased with your treatment here?" The starlight haired male had continued as if he had not expected a reply. He cared about the well being of his guests whether they were staying voluntarily or not. If Himelon was somehow being mistreated he'd take care of it as he would if any other guest had stated a complaint.

"Aside from not being permitted to leave," Himelon sighed sitting up an scooting away from Thranduil all the while averting his gaze to hide the red tint spreading over his face, "No. You have been shockingly hospitable given the Silvan elves and my prior behavior. I just find the number of people here to be uncomfortable. I'm not used to groups larger than two or three." It was the truth and what really could hurt in admitting it? It's not like he was insulting the King by being socially inexperienced. As Thranduil let the information sink it he observed the raven haired elf shifting nervously along with the soft pink tint marking the pale skin of the other male. Most people would have simply let Himelon be given that information but Thranduil just couldn't. Not only did he want his guest to be, semi, comfortable but it bothered him to no end that it was this particular individual who was uncomfortable.

"Would you feel more comfortable," Thranduil's words were slow as if he was still putting them together as he turned a striking blue eye to look Himelon in the eyes, "with your bow and blade?" The wandering gaze of the raven haired male suddenly snapped to meet the King's. Had he heard that right? Apparently so.

"Infinitely." the word had left Himelon's lips significantly stronger than initially intended, but it made its point. Thranduil's eyes had widened ever so slightly before his soft passive expression returned to further comfort and confuse Himelon. There it was again. The boldness that the raven haired elf had expressed earlier when they'd first met. Not to mention the flutter in his own stomach. As much as he disliked the authority Himelon was seemingly asserting, Thranduil couldn't help that he kind of found it enjoyable. Most everyone was ever so careful to only say that which they thought wouldn't upset him. The fact that his Captain of the guard had less of that reflex was one reason why he listened to him more than some others. It was also that trait that Thranduil found himself pondering. None the less he nodded and placed a soft pat on the other male's back before rising and moving toward the door.

"Perhaps after your bow and blade are returned to you," Thranduil glanced over his back at the elf whose pale blue orbs were transfixed on him, "you might accompany me on patrol through the forest." Himelon blinked momentarily surprised by the offer for two reasons. The first being that he'd only just arrived and was not exactly a full guest seeing as how he was so heavily guarded and watched. The second being that he thought a King would not go on patrols. That's what the guards were for wasn't it? When Himelon gave no reply and Thranduil remained where he stood the raven haired elf felt a slight amount of heat return with full force to his cheeks and cleared his throat.

"Sure," Himelon spoke with a nod looking anywhere but the starlight haired King, "I'm not familiar with Greenwood in the way you are but I'll try to be of assistance." Himelon had decided to take that tack. If he treated it like nothing more than an order or request from the King perhaps he wouldn't feel so flustered by it. Unfortunately that didn't seem to work. The Elven King seemed to have been satisfied by the response and had left. Promptly after Himelon had found his weapons resting just inside the door.

After that little bit of coaxing Himelon had found himself wandering around the palace. For most of the time Himelon had spent in Greenwood he'd taken to either wandering the forest, exploring the palace, playing with the elflings, or practicing with his bow and blade. Things were more enjoyable than he'd initially expected.


	13. Chapter 13

Summer was slowly becoming Autumn in Greenwood. The leaves, unlike the rest of the world's trees, remained a resilient, vibrant green even as the soft nip of winter spread across the land. The air filled with the overpowering scent of gardenia and plumeria blossoms and the soft ground grew ever more firm as the frost began to creep across the uncovered forest floor. The colors of the many gardens, inside and outside, of the palace were becoming less of summer and more of fall. Where citrus fruits and watermelons had grown now were pumpkins and blueberries. The brilliant and colorful flowers gave way to rich orange and gold with hints of blues. The sunlight itself seemed to take on more of a muted golden-brown that it previously had displayed.

Throughout his time in Greenwood Himelon had taken to amusing himself with elflings, walks in the woods, and keeping up on his skills with bow and blade. On this particular Autumn afternoon the raven hair elf was showing a few of the more introverted elflings how to shoot a bow and arrow. Twilight was nearing and the elflings had been at it since sunrise. More than once Himelon had asked them if they wanted to call it a day but they never did. One little boy was having the worst luck of all. He had golden-brown hair and scarlet eyes with a darker skin tone than most other elves. He wore a pair of green pants and a silver tunic with black ankle boots. He was tall for his age and just couldn't seem to shoot the arrow right. First he'd shot himself in the foot. Then the bow string kept snapping on his ear and cheek. Then his fingers kept getting nicked by the sharp arrowhead and the arrow would never fly straight. Finally half the times he'd pull out an arrow it would fall out of his hand and, in attempt to retrieve it, he'd end up spilling the rest of the arrows all over the forest floor. The other elflings had laughed and pointed. Making fun of him for his skin, eyes, hair, skill, and whatever else they could find. Himelon had expected the red eyed elfling to leave at the first given opportunity but he hadn't. Even when all of the other children were gone, he continued to try.

"Why don't you go home," Himelon offered softly laying a hand softly on the elfling's shoulder, "You've shown more dedication than the others and you must be tired." A small smile graced Himelon's lips as he gently lowered the bow in the child's hands. The red eyed elfling let out an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the ground while fiddling with the feathers on the arrow he was planning to shoot.

"I need to get this," the red eyed child groaned placing his head in his hands, "If I've ever going to get them to stop teasing me I have to get this!" The tears threatening to spring from the small child's eyes and the way he grit his teeth in frustration were the only things to betray the depths of emotion the elfling felt. Himelon gave a soft sigh and hauled the red eyed child back up onto his feet.

"Hold it like this," the raven haired elf began taking a grasp of the elfling's hands and arms to move the bow into position, "Keep your arms straight but relaxed and pull the string back with your arrow." The child took a shaky breath and did as instructed with Himelon there holding onto his to guide his movements.

"Feel how the string tenses and the wood bends?" Himelon whispered gently and the elfling nodded, "Then point the arrow and the center of the target with both eyes open and let it fly." As the elfling took aim The raven haired male released him and took a few steps back. As certain as the sun rises the red eyed elfling's arrow flew straight into the bull's-eye of the target.

"I did it," the red eyed youth more gasped than said as he turned to look at his instructor, "I did it! Did you see that?" As the reality sunk in for the young elf he became ever more excited and fired off a few more to make certain he knew how to do it. Ultimately the red eyed elfling latched onto Himelon's leg and was jumping around like most children do when they're excited. Himelon let and small smile cross his face and a gentle laugh broke from his lips while watching the child. The raven haired elf could practically feel the glare of the two guards who were most certainly still keeping an eye on him. More than once a Silvan elf or two had expressed their dislike of him being around the elflings. Yet no one seemed to care to stop him if he was only dealing with the misfits.

"Hey," Himelon announced as he grabbed onto the red eyed elfling's arm to stop his excited parade, "How about we go get something sweet from the kitchen as a reward?" Shortly after a gasp and a look of uncertainty the elfling gave a sharp nod and they were off through the winding path of the palace of Greenwood The Great.

Baking pies. It was a hobby Thranduil had taken up back in his younger days as Prince of Greenwood. It was a good stress reliever and seemed to help him focus on what needed to be done while he worked. His hobby was, unfortunately, looked down upon by most. Cooking and baking were tasks for servants and women not Princes and Kings. At least that was the common opinion so naturally he only entertained his pie making in secret. He would occasionally sneak down to the kitchens near nightfall when most everyone was busy doing something else. Since the kitchen was always stocked with the freshest ingredients there was never any trouble being able to make a pie perfect for any season or worry he may have. The flavor of the day this time was blueberry and the problem he was working out was the matter of going North.

There had been a council meeting and this time it was decided who would go north to face the orcs that were terrorizing the elfish trading posts. It was also decided when. On the side of the who it was to be him and his most skilled warriors. They were the closest and were thereby selected to go. Of course it hadn't been entirely against his will. Thranduil understood the reasoning behind it and was unable to find a reason to disagree. If the information they had been given was correct there wouldn't be too much trouble. Just a few orc packs that needed to be put back in their place. It had been initially reported that there were dragons but apparently those scaled furnaces had passed to different prey upon realizing there was no treasure to be found in the trading towns. And yet Thranduil felt so uneasy about this. It wasn't his first time going to war and the battle for Middle Earth had been plenty trying. But something just didn't feel right. The starlight haired King couldn't put his finger on it but something was not as it seemed. He was worried there was something more to this trading post battle and he was anxious about leaving Greenwood and Himelon.

No matter how many pies he baked or how long he sought solace in his forest Thranduil simply could not put the raven haired elf from his mind. The time that they were to leave and go North was only two weeks away as well. Thranduil had ordered for preparations to be made the moment he knew but the closeness of leaving was unnerving. From Greenwood it would take three days to reach the trading towns if they didn't stop and rest. It would take five if they did stop to rest. Thranduil had yet to decide if they should stop along the way. Their kin needed aid as quickly as possible and going without rest would be no problem if they truly were dealing with only orcs. However if there was something else to this then resting would be wise so that everyone would be able to perform their best.

With a sigh and a hand full of flour the Elven King set himself to beginning to make the first of three blueberry pies. With elegant movements and light footsteps Thranduil made quick work of the first pie and set it to baking. As the first finished the second was ready to go in and as that finished the third began baking. Letting out a long sigh as he finished the third pie Thranduil plopped down on a seat and cut into the first of the pies seeing as how it was cool enough to eat and the others were still too hot from the oven. Just as he was finishing the slice he'd been eating on the starlight haired elf king's ears picked up on the sound of footsteps heading for the kitchen.


	14. Chapter 14

Whipping his head in the direction of the door and rising, all too quickly and frantically for someone of his status, Thranduil moved as swiftly as he could into the shadows surrounding the interior of the kitchen. Ordinarily he would have lied about his reason for being there with the pie if caught but seeing as how he was covered in flour there would be no believable lie ho could tell. And so the Elven King found himself hiding behind a few sacks of flour in his own kitchen. Had anyone seen him they would have surely thought it comical. The Great Elven King Thranduil huddled behind a pile of flour sacks like a child hiding from their parents after doing something bad. There was little time to think on it or adjust his position, however, as the large red wood doors to the kitchen were pushed open. Over the threshold came Himelon with a red eyed elfling in tow. The elfling was chattering about his favorite types of lizards and Himelon was occasionally interjecting with statements announcing his fascination with spiders and snakes.

"Alright then," Himelon cut off the bouncing chattering elfling with a clap of his hands as he strode bolding into the unfamiliar kitchen, "Something sweet...Pie?" The raven haired elf quirked an eyebrow and titled his head ever so slightly to the side as his eyes set on the freshly baked pies sitting on the counter. It was as if someone knew exactly why they had come down there. Of course that was nonsense but there did seem to be pie that had magically appeared there seeing as how no one seemed to be in the vicinity.

"I like pie." the red eyed elfling practically purred as he spotted the sweet treat practically begging for him to come and eat it, "Let's eat the pie!" The small child made a run for the pie only to be caught and restrained by the raven haired elf who's gaze had suddenly glazed over.

"How do we know it's not a poison treat meant for the King?" Himelon's gaze was distant and almost seemed nostalgic. Most elves wouldn't think of such a thing. Cowardly assassinations involving poison were ordinarily the deeds of humans and dwarves. Yet it was not entirely unheard of and the mysterious pie would be a prime candidate for it. Everyone liked pie so what better food to poison or drug.

"No one does that stuff in Greenwood!" the now squirming red eyed elfling protested with a slight whine, "Please can we eat it?" The youth tried his best to make a cute "puppy" face at the male restraining him. He wanted that pie and didn't particularly care if it was somehow drugged. As far as the child's logic went the pie was there when they were going to get some kind of treat anyway so why not eat it?

"I will try some first…" Himelon trailed off as he set the child back down on solid ground, "…to make sure its safe." As the red eyed elfling pouted slightly and Himelon reached for the fork to try the pie, Thranduil was trying his best not to jump out of his hiding place and reprimand Himelon for thinking the pie was poison and tell both of them to leave _his _treat alone. He'd baked it to help relieve his stress and make him feel better. Not to feed any random elf who happened to walk in. Despite feeling more than a little put out Thranduil also couldn't help the intrigue that was sneaking into his mind. What would Himelon do once the pies were deemed safe?

"Well?" the red eyed youth huffed tapping his foot lightly, "Poison? Drugged?" The impatient tapping of the elfling's foot only added to the tense air in the kitchen.

"Blueberry." was the only reply to come from the raven haired food checking elf. A delighted squeal escaped the elfling's lips as he hopped up on a stool to take a piece of the pie. The youth really did love blueberry pie. He went and had three full slices before stopping with a cooed sigh and a yawn. As the elfling reclined on the seat he'd hopped up in Himelon began scanning the room for the would be baker. As the elfling cooed about how much he'd enjoyed the pie Himelon had gotten a whiff of a scent that didn't belong. It was the scent of juniper and gardenia with a hint of eucalyptus and mint. It was a scent that was distinct to expensive body wash and Himelon was fairly certain he'd smelled it before on a certain starlight haired King.

"You should be getting on home now…" the raven haired elf began as he rose slowly and followed the scent to the far left of the room, "Your parents must be wondering where you could be at this hour." The red eyed elfling gave a small nod and a "Yes sir." before scampering off. Himelon waited until he heard the dull thud of the door before he advanced to the corner of the room where the scent was the strongest. It was faint to begin with and in the highly perfumed halls of Greenwood Himelon had barely even noticed it. What had made him notice it was the memory it evoked. The way the starlight haired male had glided across the floor of the throne room only to get within inches of him. Invading Himelon's personal space yet again in the healing chambers had engrained the scent into his mind. No matter how much Himelon's logic told him he was hallucinating and becoming obsessed with the King the scent of the body wash was strongest in the far left corner of the room. Right behind a pile of flour sacks. Now why would anyone be hiding behind flour sacks?


	15. Chapter 15

As the raven haired elf male's hand gripped the edge of the flour sacks Thranduil felt his heart going a mile a minute. He was going to be found and it was by the one person in all of Middle Earth he would want least to find him. Taking in a deep breath Thranduil rose quickly from his hiding place and pushed passed Himelon with all the authority and grace of any King. He tried his best to behave as if he had been doing nothing out of the ordinary.

"Why are you here without the guards I assigned you?" before Himelon could even speak Thranduil had smoothly and coolly bit out the question. He kept his back to the other and did not even glace over his shoulder to make eye contact with Himelon as Thranduil stopped his stride only a few inches from the door. He was trying to hide his flour covered front and also was allotting himself and quick escape route should something go amiss.

"Why are you hiding behind a pile of flour sacks?" Himelon's questioned had come with a tilt of his head and flowed as gently and coolly as the mountain wind in the early days of winter. Had Thranduil looked behind him he would have seen and small smile playing across the rave haired male's face. Thranduil had been fast in escaping his hiding place but Himelon had still seen the flour on the front of the King. He had known with that split second of an image that Thranduil must have been the mystery baker. Knowing this a part of Himelon felt bad for assuming the pie to be poisoned. Not all of him. Just a part in the increasingly more active emotional side of his mind.

"You have not answered my question." It was then that Thranduil looked over his shoulder and his icy blue eyes met Himelon's pale blue ones. His tone had been as cold and narrow as a frozen stream cutting through a glacier. Himelon couldn't help but chuckle softly. Of course he hadn't and he couldn't help but think it slightly cute the way the corners of Thranduil's brow arched downward ever so slightly as he, not entirely perfectly, masked the embarrassment that was without a shadow of a doubt thrumming through him at this very moment.

"I have no clue where they are," Himelon replied with a soft sigh as he took a seat on the flour sacks and crossed one leg over the other while crossing his arms over his chest, "I am certain that they are not far behind me though." Thranduil nodded and tried to take the opportunity as the chance to leave. As his hand pushed on the door ever so slightly he was cut off.

"You made those pies didn't you?" it was more of a statement than a question that slipped from Himelon's lips. As Thranduil processed the slightly amused tone he knew that the other male knew his secret. Letting out a low groan the Elven King turned and slunk down into the nearest seat with his head in his hands. His cheeks were beet red and the one elf he couldn't get out of his head knew about his little hobby. No doubt the whole of Greenwood would know about it by morning if he did nothing about it.

"Don't tell anyone." Thranduil's words were meant to be an order but came out as more of a weak plea. The Elven King's mind was running a mile a minute and his emotions were not helping. His mind raced between all of the things he could do with the remaining pie to how he would deal with the teasing and subtle reprimands and gossip that widespread knowledge of his hobby would surely spark.

"Why would I?" Himelon chuckled softly as he glided over to sit by the starlight haired king, "It's not any of my business that you like to bake delicious pies." In that moment Himelon had the urge to wrap his arms around Thranduil and pull him to his chest while gently running his fingers through his soft, silky, blonde hair. Of course such as thing was inappropriate in the given situation. They were a far cry from being lovers which is what such behavior would be reserved for. Instead Himelon gently laid a hand on the Elven King's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. As Thranduil's, now softened, blue eyes met Himelon's again the raven haired elf offered his King a small smile of reassurance. The red tint on Thranduil's cheeks excited a soft blush in Himelon's own face as he released the other male's shoulder.

"You think they were delicious?" Thranduil's question was accented with something between a chuckle and a whimper. Himelon however let out a soft yet heart-felt laugh at the question. The raven haired elf poked softly at the pies before answering. It had been a long while since he'd laughed like that. Although the sound was soft the meaning of it ran deeper than anyone could imagine. The last time Himelon could remember laughing like that was when Lord Elrond, when he was only and elfling, had made Himelon play "orcs and elves" with him.

"Yes." Himelon cooed gently standing up in a single movement, "I don't like pie too much but I had two pieces of yours." A bit the Thranduil's pride swelled at the statement. It wasn't just that someone had like his pie, it was that Himelon had liked his pie. He truly enjoyed the thought of that. Noting that the other male was leaving the Elven King reached out swiftly and gently to catch Himelon by the hand.

"In two weeks I will be leaving with some of my men," Thranduil stated slowly and pointedly as his gaze demanded Himelon's full attention and the warmth of his slender hand kept the raven haired elf transfixed in place, "To go to war with the orcs in the far North. It shouldn't be too big of a deal and should be over quickly but I feel uneasy about it." Himelon looked and listened. The touch was wonderful and distracting while the reason for Thranduil telling him this continued to escape Himelon.

"I wish you all the speed and luck you need," Himelon began carefully leading and tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, "But why do you tell me this?" Many thoughts ran through the raven haired elf's head. He could be letting him go because of this. He could also be restricting him even more in his absence.

"I would like you to accompany me into battle." Thranduil's words had seemed surreal to both of them. Much like when he had stated that Himelon was to be their guest Thranduil felt as if someone else entirely willed his words to flow. Yet he trusted his request. It made him feel more secure and less worried about the situation. The idea of Himelon accompanying him into battle was comforting and made him feel relieved. Despite the little overall contact that they had had Thranduil liked to think of Himelon as a friend. The raven haired elf had accompanied him on patrols and, despite his Captain of the guard's objections, Thranduil would occasionally take Himelon with him when he went hunting. Those had been the best memories he'd had regarding the older elf's time in Greenwood. The walks and fellowship they'd shared no matter how brief those moments may have been.

"Of course my King," Himelon replied with a soft smile as he gripped the starlight haired King's hand a bit tighter. It had taken him a moment to get over the initial shock of the request. Himelon had liked to think them friends after the contact they'd had as of late but he was unsure whether Thranduil would even entertain such a thing. Yet here he was asking him to go into battle with him. It wasn't just a skill thing. Such a direct and personal request was an expression of trust. One would only ask someone they trusted to fight alongside them in war. It was a rather intimate bonding experience despite the blood, gore, and horrific death that came with it. With small knowing smiles being exchanged Thranduil released Himelon's hand and the raven haired male disappeared through the door into the rest of the palace. Himelon had understood the gravity of what he'd been asked and they both now knew that the idea that they were friends wasn't just a selfish thought that the other could and would not reciprocate.


	16. Chapter 16

The time was early morning. Just before the sun was to rise and the stars shone brightest as if bidding the world farewell. Himelon was perched on the edge of the window overlooking the main courtyard of King Thranduil's halls. As his eyes wandered the ground below his attention was caught by a select group of Silvan elves moving about setting up horses and taking one more look over their armor and weapons. At daybreak they were to set out for the North and there was to be no rest from when they would leave to when they would arrive. The raven haired elf's eyes drifted onto the silver bundle of fabric laying on the bed. After Thranduil had requested that Himelon join him in battle the raven haired male had sent a dove to Imladris. Attached to the dove was letter requesting the Lord Elrond send Himelon's armor to Greenwood. After the battle for Middle Earth Himelon had thought that he would have little need for his complete set of armor. In truth it was very rare for an elf to be injured in a fight and even more rare, since the fall of Sauron, was for an elf to be attacked at all. It was for these reasons that Himelon had left his armor in the care of Lord Elrond. A few days after the dove had been sent to Imladris a falcon came to Greenwood baring the bundle of silver fabric that contained Himelon's ancient armor. Silently and gracefully Himelon moved from his perch to change into his armor. They would be leaving soon.

The raven haired elf had made it himself in the shining forges of Valinor along with his bow and blade and brought them all with him when he sailed to Middle Earth. The armor itself was mithril and moonlight woven together to make strands like silk rather than links as the dwarves had done when working with mithril. It was a set of long sleeved tunic and ankle length pants. Over the top of the armor were two piece of black fabric. One to go over the tunic and another to go over the pants. The fabric that sat over the tunic was cut open to reveal the mithril beneath and the pants were the same way. The tunic fabric connected at the V-shaped neckline, the bottom of the sleeves that meet the wrists and the waist leaving slits on either side of the arms and torso. The fabric for the pants were connected at the ankles and waist leaving slits down either side of the legs. As usual Himelon was going bare foot. After putting on the light yet solid armor Himelon moved to the mirror and wove a pair of braids on either side of his hair that connected in the back and continued until all of the locks involved could no longer be braided. The effects was that of one continuous braid that began on either side of the head and flowed down the back of the remaining loose bits of hair. Atop his head Himelon situated the mithril circlet with the blue pearl that had never been absent from his brow. Swinging his bow and quiver of arrows over his back and attaching his sword to his waist Himelon paused to take in his reflection.

"Déjà vu." Himelon muttered with a soft shake of his head and a small smile. Indeed Himelon looked exactly as he had on the day Sauron fell and on that day he look exactly as he had on the day he arrived in Middle Earth. It seemed to the raven haired male that he always looked the same when something important was about to happen. And yet he could not quite place his finger on what was going to be so important about this excerpt of time. Shaking his head and giving a sharp nod Himelon glided swiftly down to the square below where all of the elves who were to leave were gathering.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Thranduil finished readying himself. He wore a suit of mithril plated armor that was cared intricately with elvish runes and spells for protection. His hair was loose and yet pulled back away from his face as not to get in the way and atop his head rested a woven circlet of silver gifted to him by Lord Elrond. He wore tall black boots and his extravagant rings were absent from his hands. Even in battle armor he looked ever the King. At his hip sat a sturdy silver sword with a golden wood hilt and a large emerald at the end.

Thranduil had been thoroughly unable to sleep. He had instructed everyone who was to leave with him to sleep early for they would have to rise early and would not be stopping to rest along the way. Yet Thranduil had been unable to take his own advice. The experience and loss of the last battle he had been in was still too near. The starlight haired King found the little sleep he had managed to get haunted by visages of dragon fire and countless dead bodies. Again and again the black and orange flame had bathed over him and his people while they could do nothing but flee. Then he would awake to find dawn growing ever nearer and a sickening knot growing in his stomach. Something was not as it had seemed and Thranduil simply could not put aside the feeling that he was marching himself and his friends to their doom. Despite all that Thranduil suppressed it all. His people could not see him afraid or weak. If they were to follow him into battle they would need to know that he was strong. They would need to know that they could count on their King to keep them safe. Even if he himself was uncertain as to whether he could do that. With a sigh and a silent prayer to whatever gods might hear Thranduil made his way down to the courtyard gentle step by gentle step.


	17. Chapter 17

Once everyone was gathered it became apparent who was different. Everyone of the Silvan elves wore green and brown armor made of leather enforced with a silvery metal underneath. Their hair was pulled back into one large braid and most carried bow, arrow, and small daggers with which to fight. At the head of the sea of brown and green was a starlight haired elf adorned in shining silver. There was no doubt he was the leader. He carried his head high and sat atop a large chestnut brown elk with massive antlers. Even the beast gave off a regal and majestic air as it and its master moved through the forest just as the sun was beginning to shine down through the canopy. Following him were the Silvan elves. Some of them rode white horses while other simply went on foot. Among the wood elves following their King was a single elf male dressed in raven black with hair to match. Peeking out from his clothing was the undeniable glow of moonlight and unmistakable lavender-ish silver of mithril. The raven haired elf ran ahead of the King scouting the safest and quickest path for he knew the land known as Middle Earth like no other of his kin. As they passed through the land stopping not for rain or snow nor night or day all who saw were awed and afraid for it was well known that elves do not march to battle lightly.

For three days and nights they traveled across the land. Then on the morning of the fourth day they saw it. The once beautiful elf trading town was a red torch against the sky and the blood of the fallen stained the pristine white snow. Orcs and elves met in the streets as a clash or elegance a ferocity. The battle had already begun for the orcs had made their move in the dead of the night. Many of the inhabitants of the town lay dead and those who survived to fight were barley able to arm themselves with better weapons than their fists. Yet they had held their ground and number of dead orcs was twice the number of elves they had slaughtered in their night ambush. The dying shrieks and screams of elf and orc alike were deafening and the stench of death consumed the ordinarily crisp fresh air. No sooner had Thranduil and his men seen the devastation that they too joined the fray. Cheers of hope sprang up from the survivors of the town and enraged roars from the orcs as the elves from Greenwood aided in the struggles. Minutes, hours, perhaps even days seemed to slow to nothing. Amidst the carnage and smoke stained sky there was nothing to gauge time by. Thranduil had been right in his feeling that something was amiss. Where there should have been a few meddlesome orc packs there was an army of the foul creatures. Even with nearly one thousand elves, after combining the forces from Greenwood and the survivors from the town, the orcs still kept coming. Where one orc was cut down two more seemed to take his place. This was a coordinated strike meant to draw the elvish forces from the surrounding lands of Middle Earth so that they could be exterminated.

No one knew how long they had been pushing on. They only knew that their strength was beginning to fade and their numbers were thinning. At the head of the lines pushing the orcs back was King Thranduil and even further ahead cutting down orcs within their own ranks was Himelon. When they had joined the battle Himelon had run full charge into the orc forces and was doing everything he could to draw their attention and give Thranduil and his Silvan elves the opportunity they might need to thin the orcs out. Along the way there Himelon had become very aware that he would likely not return. Seeing the concern on Thranduil's face and hearing the phantom screams of the dying in his ears even as they traveled through Dale had made him all to aware of this. And so he fought with the abandon of a dead man. He did not care for how tired he was becoming or even if he had become injured. All that mattered was giving his kin the chance to win the battle and push the orcs back. The feeling echoed in Himelon the past. He had felt exactly this way when he had marched in the ranks of Lord Elrond to Mordor. Likewise Thranduil felt no pain. His mind was set on keeping, what was left of, his people safe. He was thoroughly determined not to die or let the orcs win. Greenwood had already lost one King and Thranduil had no son to take his place should he fall. Death was not an option and neither was defeat.

As time trudged on the orc forces grew thinner and thinner and moved further and further back. Victory seemed to be near when all fell silent and still. Amidst the shouts and screams of battle came a silent whisper of death. The wind stilled and the whole world seemed to fall silent. As orc and elf alike froze under the eerie still there came a wind like a hurricane. It swept down upon them from west to east and brought with it the unmistakable scent of sulfur and burned flesh. As the realization of what the raging battle had summoned struck the orcs shrieked in horror and ran. They forgot their prey and enemy and all that they had been striving for and fled with screams and stampeding feet. When Thranduil placed the clues together he was gripped with a fear unlike any he had before experienced. He had heard the stories and once, as an elfling, had to been healed after witnessing the horrors of what was coming for them wrought out upon his mother. Amongst the elves he had brought with him only one moved from his frozen stated. Only one shared the same horror as the Elven King. Only one other seemed to know. As Thranduil lurched forward to pull his men back the voice of the raven haired elf range above the silence and wind.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Author's Note:_** _I suppose this is where things begin to angle in the direction of slashy-ness. So just a bit of warning if you're not into that. And to "Guest" thank you. I'm glad you liked it._

"Dragon!" was the word that left from Himelon's lips as he ran toward the other elves motioning frantically for them to run. As Thranduil pulled at his men and Himelon's voice let the words sink in the Silvan elves ran. They too forsook their enemy and task in favor of not being burned alive. No sooner had they begun to move that the roar of the dragon rang out and the all consuming flame followed. The dragon was large and green. Its eyes shone with the fire that brewed in its belly and would have been considered, had the circumstances been different, very beautiful. Despite its magnificence the dragon was death on wings. Elves stood strong with shields, blades, and bow and arrow. They tried to fight the beast and protect their kin and King but their efforts were for naught. The dragon struck them down with every swipe of its claws and tail and with every bite and breath of its fire.

Thranduil continued to push against his people in efforts of biding his kin flee. As he made his way to the forefront of the dragon related carnage to pull back the elves who still stood strong the starlight haired King found himself coming face to face with the creature responsible for the scorching flames that consumed his friends and soldiers. The dragon stood over him and pulled its maw back into a terrifying snarling grin of white teeth. It did not speak nor did it regard Thranduil as anything more than a nuisance. It had not come to kill for food nor hunt for treasures. The dragon had come to revel in the violence and carnage that their battle with the orcs had begun. It's emerald mouth opened and the glowing golden fire in its gut grew ever brighter as it threatened to spew forth and engulf the starlight haired elf King in fire. Around him Thranduil was aware of elves with shields trying to rush to his aid yet he knew they would not make it in time. Gripping his sword tighter Thranduil prepared for the scorching agony that would no doubt lead to his death.

As the dragon reared back its head and Thranduil locked his icy blue eyes on the source of the oncoming inferno the starlight haired elf felt something make contact with his left side. It was soft and warm yet firm. As he jerked his head to see what it was everything moved in slow motion to him. Thranduil's feet left the ground and his whole body jerked right. As he flew through the air he saw standing where he had been Himelon. The raven haired elf had slammed into Thranduil's left side as hard as he could to shove him out of the way of the oncoming dragon fire. There was no time for Thranduil to yell or even comprehend sound before Himelon was engulfed in dragon fire. For a moment their eyes had met and Thranduil had seen sorrow and love shining there. As the starlight haired King hit the snow covered ground his head was snapped back and all he saw was sky. All he heard were the heart wrenching screams of the raven haired male as the flames engulfed his skin. Thranduil launched to his feet, unable to see straight, and rushed forward to where Himelon had been. He was quickly grabbed by a pair of strong hands and shoved behind a wall of bodies. The heat of the dragon's fire licked at his exposed skin as the group of elves shielding him moved away from the blaze as quickly as possible. Everything blurred. The screams of the dying, the roar of the dragon, and the stench of the dead. He saw his people shielding him and each other. He saw elves being impaled or burned by the dragon. And ultimately he saw the dragon flying away. He had been fading in and out of consciousness from the fall when Himelon had pushed him out of the way but even though his vision was not focused he pushed passed the elves trying to make certain he was unharmed. His eyes scanned the burnt ground for something, anything, that could be the raven haired elf. As he stumbled through the burnt landscape shaking off elf after elf who tried to restrain him Thranduil felt a weak hand grip his ankle. Thranduil spun to see who had grabbed him and in an instant his vision cleared. Gripping his ankle with bloody fingers was Himelon. His left side was thoroughly mangled and burned while his right was horrifically marred with injury from dragon's claws. And yet Thranduil knew it was the raven haired elf. He didn't know how he knew. He just knew.

In one swift movement Thranduil scooped up what was left of the raven haired elf. He didn't care for the blood or protests of his kin. All Thranduil could think of was getting Himelon to Imladris. He could not loose him. Even if it killed him Thranduil was going to find a way to save Himelon. As he ran Thranduil's elk, which was fortunately unharmed, found its way to him and they rode hard and fast. The rest of the surviving elves, although they did not understand their King's frantic behavior, followed suit. They gathered up the injured and rode as quickly as they could West to Imladris. They rode day and night and again and again Thranduil prayed to whomever would listen. He pleaded with every god he could think of to just save the raven haired elf laying in his arms. In the moment when he had hit the ground and Himelon had been engulfed in dragon fire in his place, when their eyes had met Thranduil had known one thing from his lost memories. He had know that look in Himelon's eyes.

He had known the love he saw there to be more than just the love of a subject for his King. It was a love that possessed Himelon to throw himself into the dragon's inferno when he could have run and saved himself. Thranduil would not let him die for he also felt the deep pang and ache of losing one whom he too loved. For so long he had not understood why Himelon would not leave his mind. Why he had been tormented with nightmares and memories for so long. And now he understood. He cared for the raven haired elf in a way he had not cared for anyone else. And now as he rode to Imladris to plead for the aid of Lord Elrond he felt he would sooner give up his own life than let Himelon die.

Thranduil had not known when he had crossed the boarder into Elrond's lands. He had been too focused on telling Himelon not to die and searching for any signs of life in the burnt and mangled body to notice. Yet when he had felt his elk stop and seen that he had just crossed the main gates of Imladris and, subsequently, drawn the attention of everyone there he wasted no time.

"Where is Elrond?" the question had come as more of a paniced demand as Thranduil had swung down from the elk, all the while being careful not to drop the elf in his arms, "We need help now!" Yet again he had sounded less like a King and more like a desperate individual at the end of his options. He didn't care. The crowd parted and grimaced at the sight of the elf in his arms and the trail of ash stained blood that was left in Thranduil's wake as one of Elrond's sons led him to the main healing chambers caused many of them to look away.

Elrond had been shocked and disgusted when he had burst frantically into the healing chambers. When word had reached him that Thranduil and many of his warriors were in Imladris seeking healing Elrond had dropped everything and rushed to the chamber Thranduil was in. He had been anticipating the starlight haired male to be the one injured. What he had not been expecting was the stomach churning scent of burned flesh and blood and to see Thranduil kneeling at the bedside of an unrecognizable creature cradling its head and weeping.

"Thranduil," Elrond began as he stifled the urge to look away and placed a hand on the starlight haired King's shoulder, "Are you hurt?" The concern in Elrond's eyes had been true. He was worried if Thranduil, his friend, was injured but more so he needed to see how Thranduil would respond to him. He needed to see if the other male was able to comprehend his words and respond accordingly.

"You have to save him!" the shout had broken free from the Elven King's lips no sooner than Elrond's words had ended. With tears in his eyes and ash and blood covering his face he had turned and taken a tight hold of Elrond's shoulder practically shoving him toward the bed. That was not the answer Elrond had been hoping for. Nodding and giving a weak smile he had reassured Thranduil that he would do what he could and ushered him off to another healer's room. Thranduil himself was in need of healing. Some physical but mostly mental. Sighing Elrond turned back to the elf laying in the bed in front of him. He checked for a pulse expecting there to be none and immediately jumped into action the moment he felt the weak heart beat. He grabbed herbs and charms and starlight. As promised he would do everything he could to save the individual Thranduil had so frantically pleaded with him to heal. Elrond could not tell who he was healing because the damage was too disfiguring when he began but he knew they were important the his king and friend. That was more than enough reason for him to pour every single ounce of his skill as a healer into this one elf.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's** **Note:** _Thank you once again for the reviews and views. To Dinah (Guest) I'm glad you liked it and here's the next chapter. Enjoy everyone._

Floating. That was the sensation Himelon was met with as he faded in and out of consciousness. He floated through dreams, reality, and memory. He remembered the battle in all it's horrific wonder. When the dragon had appeared Himelon had been the first to run. He'd run bidding everyone else do the same and had no intention of stopping until he was halfway across Middle Earth and well into the Misty Mountains. However one glance of his eyes to the left as he fled to escape the dragon had changed his plans. Standing brave and strong in front of the beast was Thranduil. His starlight hair blew in the wind like the final wisps of starlight before the dawn and he showed no fear outwardly as he stared down the emerald furnace. In that moment nothing else had mattered to Himelon. Almost of their own accord his feet turn and carried him straight into the side of the starlight haired King shoving him out of the way. With his heart beating a mile a minute and the single snippet of memory of the starlight haired elf from his dreams smiling and holding him filling his mind Himelon finally made the connection. The reason he couldn't stop thinking about the Elven King and the reason his emotions were swinging so violently as of late was because he did know the starlight haired king. The raven haired male finally made the connection that Thranduil was the starlight haired elf from his dreams. With a soft smile and bit moment of eye contact Himelon had tried to convey his thoughts. Not a second after Thranduil was out of range of the fire did Himelon feel the scorching heat. The pain had only lasted for a second before everything went black. As the raven haired elf floated his mind turned to dreams. He could hear someone calling for him but it didn't matter. He surely thought he was being ferried into the halls of Mandos and so he let his mind and soul wander.

"_Good morning," the whisper rand near Himelon's ear and was accompanied by a soft warmth pressing closely to his side, "I know you're awake." Opening his eyes softly the raven haired elf was met with the image of the starlight haired male he'd seen so often hovering over him propping himself up on his elbows. On the starlight haired elf's face was a gentle smile. Himelon only blinked at him trying to move only to be limited by the position of the starlight haired elf._

"_If you want me to get up," the raven haired elf muttered sleepily, "then please move." A chuckle and a weight on his chest were the only responses Himelon got. With his eyes traveling to the source of the weight the raven haired male saw an all too content Thranduil snuggling into his chest and pushing the thin silver fabric of Himelon's sleeping robe out of the way so his head could rest on the other male's chest without the barrier._

"_I don't want you to get up," Thranduil cooed softly letting loose a soft hum, "I just want you to be awake." The raven haired elf smiled widely and brought a hand up to rest in the silky starlight locks draping across his right arm. Neither spoke or moved. As Himelon let his head fall backwards the scene faded and he was once again floating._

Within his unconscious state many dreams as pleasant as the first drifted into his thoughts. He experienced many of his days in Valinor and even relived the moment of his creation. He watched as his memory unfolded his landing in Middle Earth and the battles that had haunted the first 300 years of life there. He saw the rise and fall of kingdoms all over again and witness the life and deaths of many elves he had once called friends. From afar he had seen it all. There was little that had come to pass in Middle Earth that Himelon had not seen. Among the good memories and dreams there also dwelt the bad. He re-lived the forging of the rings of power and the destruction wrought by Sauron with the One Ring. He marched to war against Mordor and died countless times as his memories began to merge. He felt the slow fade of his enthusiasm and trust. As he watched the elves he'd known as friends die or sail from Middle Earth the felt himself become more and more distant and isolated than he had been in the beginning. Himelon watched until all that was left of those he called friend was Elrond. Then the most recent events began to play out as his mind was pulled ever closer to consciousness. Ever closer to his body. He saw his arrival in Greenwood and all that had unfolded. He tasted the blueberry pie and smelled the perfumes of Thranduil as he stood all too close to him. In a flash the sweet taste and smell became the stench of rot and death. Then there was the heat and pain again. Pain that should have faded as all of the other memories and dreams did. But it did not. It continued and grew until it snapped him back into his body. The pull on his mind and soul was strong and a voice rang around him as flashes of white architecture and the face of Elrond. Himelon felt his mouth open and his body move but he heard no sound and felt only the burning sensation that had brought him back to conciousness.


	20. Chapter 20

Lord Elrond had been working for half a day before he had managed to remove enough of the damage to identify the creature he was healing. It had been the woven mithril armor that had initially told him of the other's identity but he had not wanted it to be true and did not accept it until he had begun to heal the right side of the creature's face. The major wounds had been addressed and the main work was in the reconstruction now. As moonlight skin and raven hair returned where there had been nothing recognizable Elrond had felt his stomach clench. There were not many in Middle Earth he truly considered personal friends. There were many acquaintances but few friends and it tore him up inside to see one of his friends in such a state. None the less the Lord of Imladris had pushed on.

It took another half of a day to heal the right side of the raven haired elf's body. Elrond hadn't even begun to attempt to reconstruct the left yet. He knew that he didn't have the strength for that after healing the rest. And so he had bandaged the left side thoroughly with a paste of healing herbs and starlight and left to rest. As always he would stay in the room with his patient. Elrond disliked the idea of leaving lest something should happen in the night. And indeed something did happen as Elrond was resting. Thranduil, having escaped from his own healers, had wandered back in to see how Himelon was doing. Elrond had been roused from his sleep by soft whispers and a smell that didn't belong. As he'd risen from the bed Elrond saw Thranduil sitting near the bedside gently stroking Himelon's right cheek and singing softly and sweetly to him. There would have been no problem with this had it not been stirring Himelon. The raven haired elf's body was not yet ready to receive his conscious mind just yet and the soft whimpers and movements that Himelon was attempting told of how Himelon was trying to wake. Elrond had moved swiftly and silently to try and convince Thranduil to go and rest but the Elven King was having none of it. He didn't budge even when Elrond had pulled gently on his arm in attempt to get him to stand.

"You're going to wake him," Elrond spoke softly and yet sharply as his hazel eyes stared into Thranduil's blue ones, "Waking him up might just kill him." The last statement had been enough to silence Thranduil's soft melody but unfortunately the damage was done. The soft whimpers and small movements were growing. More in attempt to put Himelon back to sleep than anything else Elrond had swiftly retrieved some valerian and placed the smoking bundle under Himelon's nose. It did nothing. The whimpers became groans which ultimately grew into an ear piercing scream as Himelon's pale blue eyes shot open. He was conscious and well aware of his injuries. It had taken both Elrond and Thranduil's strengths to hold the raven haired elf down as he cried out and thrashed hopelessly. Too often had Elrond and Thranduil both seen this exact response end in the death of the injured if not dealt with immediately. And so with Thranduil holding Himelon down Elrond removed the bandages and did all that he could to heal the raven haired elf's left side.

By the time Elrond had finished healing Himelon the sun had risen and set again. Even then Himelon's left side was not entirely healed. There was nothing more that could be done and Himelon was asleep again but the scars were still difficult to look at. Most of the face had been reconstructed well but there was still a gaping wound on Himelon's cheek that revealed the inside of the mouth and jaw bone. The raven haired elf's left eye was also unrecoverable and sat blind in its socket. Moving down the neck there was a deeply carved indentation at the collarbone that revealed said bone beneath it. Along the raven haired elf's left arm were deep indentations that bunched together with silvery skin and scar tissue. Himelon's left side was left marked with an indentation that revealed the top of the hipbone and curved sharply inward at the stomach with more of the silvery skin and scar tissue. Lastly down his left leg were silver rivers of scar tissue that almost looked like spider webs.

Elrond let out a shaky sigh as he collapsed into a nearby chair. He was exhausted and couldn't believe that Himelon had even survived. As the Lord of Imladris let his eyes wander the room lazily he cast a soft gaze at Thranduil who still stood at the foot of the bed taking in the sight before him. For a moment Elrond thought the starlight haired King might leave and take his men back to Greenwood hoping to forget about Himelon. That was until he saw Thranduil bend down and whisper softly against the raven haired elf's ear. As he spoke the scarred areas began to fade into seamless perfection of what they once were.

"You've healed the scars?" the question came more in disbelief than anything from Elrond. He had never heard of such techniques existing that could heal the scars from a dragon's breath. And yet that is exactly what had appeared to have happened.

"I hid them." the statement was spoken softly by Thranduil but carried all the weight of Middle Earth with it. The scars were still there. Just no longer visible. Elrond nodded softly and let his eyes close. Elves being a bit of a vain race do not take well to such injuries. By hiding the scars Thranduil was sparing Himelon the embarrassment that would come with the stares and disgusted glances that would surely come should the scars be on display. It was a kind gesture if nothing else. Yet again Elrond had expected the Elven King to take his leave. Yet again he did not. Instead Thranduil pulled up a free chair and took watch over the sleeping elf. He would wait there as long as necessary until Himelon awoke.


	21. Chapter 21

When the raven haired elf woke it was deep into the night. It was a moonless night and as a result the shadows being cast throughout Imladris were nothing short of eerie. The only light provided was the soft glow of pale blue lanterns that gave the place an unreal appearance. The elegant architecture having striking, contrasting shadows that twisted and turned into shapes both beautiful and menacing did little to lessen the sensation that what was seen and perceived was not real. For the first time in ages Himelon woke without thought or sensation. As his pale blue eyes wandered the room he felt detached as if in a dream. It was as though he was simply watching a scene play out without any control over his own movements. At the left side of his bed was an elegantly carved white wooden chair occupied by Thranduil who had fallen asleep with his head resting in his hands. The small twitched of his face and hands indicated that he slept lightly and dreamt deeply. To the right was a small bed-like sofa which was inhabited by Lord Elrond who too had fallen asleep reclining on the small violet sofa. His sleep was significantly deeper and his breathing had become so light it seemed as if he drew no breath at all. Slowly the raven haired elf slipped out of the bed and made his way to the door. Along the way he made note of where his bow and blade rested before silently slipping out of the room.

The first thought that Himelon recognized was that something was wrong. The lack of sensation throughout his body did little to aid in the discovery of the problem but something still seemed off to the raven haired male. His feet carried him slowly and lightly through the halls of Imladris as if of their own accord. From the healing chambers down through the gardens to the main bathing pools Himelon silently wandered. There was no wind or stirrings of creature or elf as he went and all sound seemed to have evaporated from the world. The second conscious thought to enter the raven haired male's mind was that there seemed to be nothing on his left side. Nothing he could see anyway. It was as if a void rested where the left side of his vision should have been. The thought was not enough to rouse him from his detached state however.

The main bathing pools of Imladris were underground fed springs that pooled and ultimately flowed down into raging rivers that gave way to waterfalls. They were lined with blue lanterns and, on this particular night, the water seemed to be made of glowing blue glass. The time it took Himelon to disrobe and enter the water was exceedingly slow. It seemed as if time itself had slowed to a crawl and the stiff protests of his limbs did not allow for easy removal of the thin silver sleeping gown that had been placed on him. For hours the raven haired elf just floated and reclined in the pristine pools as he slowly felt his senses returning to him. It was if the gentle caress of the water was washing away the embrace of sleep and bringing him fully back to the conscious world.

As the golden sun appeared softly on the horizon Himelon rose from the comforting embrace of the cool water with intent to return to the room in which he'd first awoken. He now heard sound and distantly felt the touch of the ground beneath his feet, but the raven haired elf still felt distant and detached as if his body were not his own. As he slipped the silver fabric back on Himelon became very aware that something was not as it seemed. Where ordinarily there was fluid motion and little to no strain it felt as if his limbs could barely moved. The tension of the skin on his left side was as if it was pulled taught like animal hide over a drum. As confusion spread over his face the raven haired elf gently brushed his fingers over his left arm. It looked as he last remembered and felt, to the touch, as it should and yet Himelon couldn't shake the feeling that there was illusion at play. Sitting down by the water's edge and furrowing his brow Himelon tried to think back to the events prior in hopes of finding the answer. He remembered Greenwood and all that had transpired there. He could remember dawning battle armor and going somewhere. Then there was a gap. He remembered dreaming of something or someone perhaps and then of waking in Imladris and all that had occurred since. Closing his eyes the raven haired elf focused himself on remembering why he had put on armor and where he had been going. There were only faint glimmers at first. The stench of the dead, snow, fire, orcs and something hot. Very hot. There were shouts and words. The more he concentrated the more of the words he could decipher in the depths of his mind yet they made as little sense as and unfamiliar language to him. Just as a soft pressure in his skull was beginning to develop the raven haired elf was able to make out one word. And that one word was all it took to bring everything crashing back to him. Sensation, memory, and knowledge of why his left side was dark and his skin felt odd. That one word was "Dragon".

With a gasp and single tear rolling from his right eye Himelon was snapped back into reality with such force that it left his feeling dizzy. He turned and ran back through the halls to the healing room he'd woken in. As his feet carried him blindly and he expertly swerved around the elves who were beginning to wake and emerge from their rooms the memory of shoving Thranduil out of the way and the dragon flame was all that played in his head. The raven haired elf cared little for how much noise he made when he re-entered the healing chambers. In a few movements Himelon had crossed the room to the full length mirror stopping mere inches in front of it. His expression was empty as if devoid of all thought and emotion. The exact opposite was the case. He was afraid, curious, anxious, and excited all at the same time. He feared what he would find under the illusion of his skin and yet Himelon was fascinated that he had survived. In the mirror he caught sight of both Elrond and Thranduil waking with a start and moving towards him. The starlight haired male said something but the words were unheard as Himelon released the spell that had been so expertly cast over his left side. For a second there was pain. It felt as if his skin was being torn clean off but then there was nothing. The scars were plain to see and the only sensation on the left side was that of the air caressing the gaps in his flesh.

Elrond looked away and halfway looked as if he himself was in pain while Thranduil simply stared with gentle eyes full of sorrow. The Elven King had been blaming himself for the other male's wounds. Had he not asked Himelon to come these scars would surely been his own. Guilt and a deep set desire to protect the other with everything he had gnawed at the starlight haired male's gut. Out of instinct and desire to comfort the other Thranduil took a few cautious steps forward and reached out to touch the other. The touch had been purposely aimed for the left side of Himelon but his hand was thwarted by the raven haired elf's own curiosity. Himelon slowly drug his fingers of the scars one by one starting with his eye. His hand did not shake and his expression had not changed. It was as if he stood there unaffected and simply assessing the damage as one would a broken arrow or damaged shield.


	22. Chapter 22

"Himelon…" Thranduil's soft voice broke through the raven haired elf's thoughts and the slender hand that had come to rest on his left arm brought him back to reality. Himelon flinched at the contact. He knew he shouldn't have because it would likely be taken the wrong way, but he simply couldn't bare for anyone to touch _that_. It wasn't beautiful and it wasn't attractive. The scars that would have been the pride of men and the beauty of orcs were nothing more than repulsive to elves. Himelon didn't understand the gesture Thranduil had been trying to make or the ultimate meaning behind it. He was only confused as to why the starlight haired elf would even consider touching his left side. As Thranduil retracted his hand feeling slightly hurt and even more guilty thinking that Himelon was blaming him for the injuries Thranduil opened his mouth to speak. He was however cut off by Himelon spinning passed him and over to the main healing table to retrieve a vial of starlight.

"We tried everything," the blonde King started averting his gaze to the ground, "They can't be fixed." Thranduil's words had been laced with sorrow and regret while Elrond's grimace spoke volumes more.

"I know," Himelon replied with a voice as steady and clam as a high mountain lake on the eve of winter, "But I have to try for myself." The statement had been matter of fact and blunt. It wasn't that Himelon didn't trust the healing techniques of his kin, it was just that he knew a few healing spells that had faded from the memories of most. Unfortunately the result was an unchanged stated of being. Just as Thranduil had said, the scars could not be fixed while Himelon yet dwelt in Middle Earth. They could only be concealed. Letting out a shaky breath the raven haired elf let himself drop down to the bed and the illusion that Thranduil had placed on him flowed effortlessly back over the scars. It would appear as if he had been completely healed. Himelon's appearance would look as it always had and for that he was grateful. It was no secret that some elves could be cruel when judging others based on appearance. In truth most all elves judged each other based on appearance even if they didn't realize it. Even though Himelon had little contact with other elves he still felt comforted knowing that he would look as he always had. Whether he was around others often or not he didn't want to have to look at the scars if he didn't have to.

"Thank you," the raven haired elf smiled gently at Elrond and Thranduil despite his eyes swelling with sadness, "I will be gone before the hour is out." The statement had caused both Elrond and Thranduil to startle and they both moved toward the be in unison and one barely managed to speak before the other.

"You are not yet fully healed," Elrond had managed to bite out sharply before Thranduil could speak, "You cannot travel alone." Elrond knew the stubbornness and will of the elder male but he would not allow him to leave so soon after being healed. The Lord of Imladris had half a mind to place a guard at the door to make certain Himelon did not leave until he had fully recuperated. The brunette haired male would have expressed this had Thranduil not cut him off by jumping in as soon as Elrond had finished his sentence.

"I have not yet given you permission to leave," the words had come out as more of a frantic stumble than a real argument, "You will return to Greenwood with me." The Elven King's eyes had returned to their icy stated as he gazed down at the other male once again invading Himelon's personal space.

"Technically that is not your decision to make," Himelon half chuckled as he titled his head to the side, "We are no longer in Greenwood and this is Elrond's home. It's his decision." In the time Himelon had been in Greenwood he had become quite attached to the starlight haired king but, given the recent developments, thought that it would likely be best if he killed his ever growing feelings for Thranduil before they could fully manifest. A King could never find a disfigured elf attractive and Himelon figured he should just spare himself the pain of being told that.

"I do not care," Thranduil had bit out the statement as swiftly as a flash of lightening as his eyes softened once again and he brought himself to crouch down to make eye contact with the raven haired elf, "You will return with me. I have already failed to protect you once and will not do it again." Thranduil pulled Himelon off the bed and tightly into his arms as tears leaked slowly out from the blonde King's eyes and the weight of his confession sunk in to both Himelon and Elrond. In that moment Elrond understood why Thranduil had stayed rather than taking his men and leaving. He had feelings for the raven haired elf.

"You deserve better," Himelon mumbled softly as his own tears began to leak gently from his right eye, "A beautiful maid perhaps…" Despite his soft protest verbally the raven haired elf was doing little to protest to the embrace. Himelon had snuggled softly into the starlight haired male's shoulder and rather tightly returned the embrace. At the moment the raven haired elf had a very low opinion of himself in the physical appearance department. It would likely have been different if Thranduil had not known about the scars. Lying was something Himelon could do with relative ease. The fact that the Elven King had seen the scars is what made his so insecure. Ordinarily these sorts of things would have been the furthest thing from Himelon's mind but his attraction to the blonde king was undeniable and seemed to have made him rather self conscious.

"You're beautiful." Thranduil's tears had stopped and he'd pulled Himelon from his shoulder to look the other male in the eye in hopes of conveying the fact that he was not lying to make other feel better, "I will tell you every day until you believe it." The Elven King let a soft smile play across his features as he saw Himelon's acceptance of the simple fact that he was not to be rid of the starlight haired elf King. A small nod and rather pointed lean into Thranduil was what ended the conversation. Wrapping his arms around Himelon the starlight haired male placed both himself and the raven haired elf back into the bed. As he felt Himelon start to relax against him Thranduil glanced back at Elrond with an appreciative smile. Elrond, in return, smiled gently at Thranduil before excusing himself with a soft nod.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:**_ Hey guys. Thanks for the recent follows and favorites. I really appreciate it and it is all the reviews, favorites, and follows that encourage me to keep writing and not give up! Anywho we're not done with it all just yet so keep your eyes peeled if your do that sort of thing. Ummm yeah read on._

The return trip to Greenwood had been slow and rather awkward. There were many injured and even more dead. No one really walked with a purpose or unaffected gait. Some leaned to the left, others to the right, while others still limped along or trailed behind weighted down by grief. Despite the near demand from Thranduil that Himelon ride on the elk with him the raven haired male had chosen to walk. Overall Himelon had avoided contact with Thranduil since leaving Imladris. He would barely look at the blonde and did all he could to not speak or touch Thranduil. Subsequently the Elven King was left sinking ever further into a pit of self blame and guilt. He took the raven haired elf's actions as an expression of anger or perhaps even hate for what had happened. It was illogical Thranduil knew and yet he couldn't seem to banish such ideas from his mind. Every time Himelon would stumble or bump into something on his left side Thranduil couldn't stop the flash that reveal to him, through memory, the reason why.

Watching the raven haired male attempt to fire a bow and arrow or grab onto things with his left arm was even more painful. In time Himelon would likely recover some resemblance of normal use with his left side but it was still too soon. Attempting to use his left arm to grip or pull resulted in a rather obvious grimace and recoil while Himelon whimpered from the pain. With the bow and arrow the discomfort had been obvious while the arrows angled sharply left. Himelon seemed to notice and after a few days of trying, despite being told not to, the raven haired elf had managed to recover his use of bow and arrow.

When they crossed the border into Greenwood the group had been met by overjoyed men, women, and children alike. All of them greeted the returning elves with song and flowers while they searched for their sons, husbands, wives, and children. It was obvious to all that the number returning was drastically smaller than the number who had left. Thranduil had left Greenwood with and army that was 800 strong and returned with only 400. Those were the survivors. The number of elves who would be able to fight again and who had returned with only mental scaring was, at best, 200. Despite the large numbers who had fallen everyone was grateful that not all of Greenwood's soldiers had left and that the King was unharmed. Much to Himelon's embarrassment it soon became common knowledge as to why the King was unharmed.

Most of the elves who had shielded him until the dragon left had proudly accepted the praise while the raven haired elf had awkwardly snuck away from the crowd and back to the room he had previously been given. Thranduil had tried to follow but had ultimately been detained by the many elves and elleths attempting to care for him. Some offered food and drink while others insisted on making certain he was uninjured. For about 30 minutes the courtyard of Greenwood was a bustling mess of reunions, extra healing, and general fussing. Thranduil himself had been rushed off to his personal chambers to be tended to. It was not proper for a King to be so dirty or look so tired. At least that's what a white haired elf who was one of his personal servants kept going on about. The starlight haired king did have to admit though, bathing in warm clean water and falling into his soft bed felt amazing.

As Himelon snuck off and away from the fussing crowd of elves in the courtyard he became very aware that he was being followed. There was a young servant elf with brilliant orange hair and violet eyes who was sneaking along behind him rather badly. Himelon ignored the other male and gave a small chuckle and shake of his head as he closed the door to his guest chambers and was about to lock them when there was a sharp knock.

"Wait!" the voice had been shrill and almost feminine, "Don't you want anything?" Himelon furrowed his brow and quirked and eyebrow as he opened the door to reveal the orange haired elf. The young male had seemed startled and rather flustered by the raven haired elf's expression before trying to press his way into the room. Trying being the key word. He was ultimately only able to wedge himself halfway into the room before being thoroughly obstructed by Himelon.

"Explain." the word had been a soft demand. Himelon wanted to know what the orange haired elf had meant. Even more so he wanted to know why the other had been following him without identifying himself. Yet again the violet eyed male was startled and took a few steps back while fiddling with his fingers before answering.

"I'm supposed to help care for guests," the orange haired elf stuttered slightly and averted his gaze, "but you looked upset and I didn't want to make anything worse. So…do you need anything? Like a bath or food?" The last two questions had been accented with a nervous smile. The young male was rather socially awkward and that fact in an of itself drew a soft smile from Himelon's lips.

"I'm not upset," the raven haired elf chuckled, "just lost in thought. A bath and some wine would be nice. If you have any that is. Perhaps a change of clothes if something is available as well." Himelon accented his request with a gentle smile as the orange haired elf beamed and trotted off. It was the first time since his arrival that Himelon had requested anything of the servants in Greenwood. He was usually too shy or felt such a thing would be inappropriate given his position as a prisoner-guest. However the other had asked and Himelon had found himself feeling less like a prisoner and more like a guest as of late. He had also become all too aware that he would need some help with things that had previously been easy. That however was not something he was will just yet to admit verbally to anyone. When the orange haired elf returned Himelon had bathed and enjoyed the wine. It was a rich red wine that was heavy and sweet with a strong hum of alcohol. It was a comforting sensation and flavor that reminded Himelon of the wines he would often enjoy in Valinor. Letting out a sigh and finishing the glass Himelon crawled lethargically into the large soft bed with silky sheets and fell into a deep sleep face down and snuggled into the pillows.


End file.
